


On The Edge

by heartsdesire456



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, M/M, Multi, Romance, Soldier Clint, War, Writer Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Phil Coulson, a middle aged writer from New York, getting an assignment to go to a military base in Afghanistan and spend eleven weeks living amongst the men and women who work there with no further instructions besides "Find me a story that's human and will make people feel something" from his editor, Nick, sounded like it might be an interesting experience. Seeing up close and personal what it was like to be a part of the longest ongoing war in American history seemed like it might give him the kind of opportunity a writer of small, unimportant pieces like he wrote a chance to write something that people actually cared about.</p><p>What he found instead was love in the most unexpected way and an experience that would change his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Edge

**Author's Note:**

> **HEED THE WARNING!**
> 
> Notice that I chose not to use archive warnings? I didn't accidentally forget to click that off. I chose it for a reason. I know that a lot of readers may be turned off by that and may not even look at this fic for it, but the truth is, I couldn't, in good faith, put warnings on this story.
> 
> This story is about a writer writing a book. It literally follows a man who is actively writing the story that is being told. Books don't come with warnings. When you read a book, you read it with nothing but the covers to tell you what it's about. Because of the nature of this fic being so unique in that it's a fic about a book being written, I feel like it is only appropriate to not use any archive warnings or trigger warnings, but in the tags I included the ONE warning you need:
> 
>  
> 
> **War.**
> 
>  
> 
> Everything that can, has, will, and does happen in war, every ugly fact of war, every gritty reality of conflicts, it is all encompassed in the word 'War' as your only warning. 
> 
> Heed it.

Page 1: 

_Some people say falling in love happens all at once, like surfacing after being under water and suddenly you see someone in a different light even if they were there all your life. Sometimes, people say falling in love is a long, slow road, like the shifting of dunes in the Sahara, something gradual and easy to follow but absolutely inescapable. Others will say falling in love is like discovering something you didn’t know you had inside of you, like finding a twenty in your back pocket and then realizing you need gas for your car._

_For me, falling in love was like a coal seam fire._

_At first there was the ignition, the moment I met him, when I looked up, caught his eyes as he was turning around with a smile on his face, and there was that spark deep inside of me. It wasn’t a spark igniting a blaze like a wildfire, but instead it was a slow, steady smolder that grew warmer and spread at a lazy pace. And like a coal seam fire, at first, nothing seemed too out of sorts. The heat was there, the awareness that something had changed, but nothing so combustible that it was likely to burst into flames. There were times the temperature dropped and the fire stopped spreading, there were occasions where it would spark up and threaten to escape from its confines and burn everything around me, and most of all there were times when I thought it was running out of fuel. But every time the fire felt like it was going to burn out, he would look at me and a gust of fresh air fanned the flames high, reminding me that just like a coal seam fire, my love was always still down beneath the surface._

_And just like a coal seam fire, the way I fell in love was something that may never stop burning. The same way scientists predict that Australia’s Burning Mountain has burned for more than six millennia, I don’t doubt that when I fell for him, it sparked something inside of me that won’t quit, not ever, and will remain there, flaring up and dying down for all my life, but never fully becoming extinguished, possibly even not when I die._

_All the greatest stories in history start with a hero and the woman he saves. My story has no damsel in distress. There is no tale of salvation or youthful self-discovery. The story you are about to be told didn’t begin until I was already beyond youth, self-discovery, or even salvation. There is no real mystery, no monsters, no classic fairy-tale villains. This story’s protagonist is nothing special, just a middle-aged writer with an established career and a comfortable, normal life who took a job to tell a simple, real-life story._

_This story does have a hero though. He wasn’t a superhero, there was no cape or tights, no miraculous rescues, no monologue spouting bad guy who got his comeuppance. He was just a man. A brave man, maybe, as he was a soldier, but just a man all the same. To most people, he was an Army sniper, Sergeant First Class Clinton F. Barton, but to me he was something else entirely. It isn’t a story where he took over my entire being. I didn’t become a different person. Clint didn’t save me._

_He changed me._

~  
 **May 2014, Manhattan**

Phil loved the smell of coffee and freshly baked muffins. That was half the reason he spent so much of his time at Odinson’s Bakery. The other half was that he wrote better when it wasn’t quiet, and the bakery was always busy and full of people. Odinson’s Bakery was frequented by most of his friends, mostly because the bakery was half a block from Stark Tower, and his best friend was Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries. 

This particular morning, Pepper herself was sitting and having a coffee. Usually she didn’t have time and Phil ran into her assistant, Darcy, getting her something. Not only was Pepper there, but so was Tony, and he rarely ever came outside during the day. Tony Stark, the owner of Stark Industries, was never one of Phil’s favorite people, but as much as an ass as he was, he had always been a part of Pepper’s life that Phil just had learned to deal with. She and Tony had worked together far longer than she and Phil had been friends, so he was used to Tony by now. Mostly, Phil knew that even if Tony was an ass, the man really did worship the ground Pepper walked on, even before they (finally) got together a few years back. That was enough for Phil in the end.

“Agent!” Tony called loudly, startling half the people in the show.

Phil sighed, rolling his eyes as he walked over. “For the four hundred and forty-third time, I haven’t been an ‘agent’ in eleven years, Stark.”

Tony smirked. “But it’s so fun to remind people I’m friends with a former-assassin!”

“I wasn’t an assassin,” Phil argued, but it was a tired, old bickering argument they had at least once per week.

As annoyed as he pretended to be, Phil liked their little exchanges really. 

Pepper smiled brightly, nodding at his bag. “Writing something new? I saw your piece on the new sculpture at the park last week. It was really good,” she complimented.

Phil smiled as he sat at a small table not far from them. “Thanks, and yeah, I just started at home and decided I’d be better off getting out and writing somewhere I can’t stop and go watch television,” he said, taking out his laptop, a pen, and his notebook. 

“What this time? Another modern art installment going up somewhere?” Tony asked. “Or are you writing another history book? What was the last one, Manhattan Architecture?”

Phil snorted. “Train station architecture of the northeast, and no, this one is different.” He hesitated, looking down at his keyboard. He put his elbows on the table and leaned into his hands, resting his chin on his clasped fingers, looking into the distance. “It’s… personal.”

Pepper looked surprised but excited. “Oh really? How so? Getting around to fiction for once? Showing some of your writer soul in your art?” she asked eagerly.

Phil bit his lip, looking up to meet her eyes. “It’s about me and Clint,” he said in a small voice, and Pepper’s eyes widened in surprise. Even Tony stilled, coffee cup halfway to his mouth as he looked up at Phil. Phil smiled sadly. “It’s time to tell the world our story.”

Pepper reached across the gap between their tables and put a hand on his knee, squeezing it. “Are you sure? You still don’t like to even talk about Afghanistan-“

“Pepper, it’s time,” he said, putting his hand on top of hers, patting the back of her hand. “It’s been more than a year. I went over there to get a story, and now it’s time to finally tell the story I lived.”

She smiled almost proudly, even if her eyes were visibly damp. “I’m sure the way you write, even those of us that know it already will be floored by your story, Phil.”

“Yeah man, good luck, really,” Tony said somberly.

Phil nodded, chuckling. “Thanks. I’ll need it,” he said as he opened the document he had started on at home and read over what he already wrote. He fixed a few things and changed a few words, but overall, he was pleased with it. He looked up at the counter and saw there wasn’t a line, so he stood. “First move, breakfast,” he said to Pepper with a smile.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it,” Pepper said, standing as he passed to catch him in a hug. When she leaned in, she whispered to him, “If you need to talk about it, I don’t have any meetings today,” she said and Phil felt a surge of affection towards her.

“Thanks, but I’ve lived it. I can relive it,” he said as he released her. He nodded to Tony, who saluted him in lieu of speaking since he had shoved the rest of his muffin in his mouth. Pepper groaned at the sight of Tony’s chipmunk cheeks and shook her head as she started bickering. Phil grinned at the rather impressively juvenile eye roll Tony gave her as he followed her out of the store, but Phil saw Tony catch Pepper’s hand the minute they got outside and he was reminded that, for all their apparent issues, there was no denying he’d never met any two people who were a better match than Pepper and Tony.

Phil hesitated. He looked down at his own chest and put a hand to his shirt, feeling the metal against his skin beneath it. He ran his finger along the chain against his collar bone and ducked his head as he thought that, maybe he was wrong about possible better matches.

~

_In the summer of 2012, my editor, Nick Fury, called me into his office. I had no idea that he was about to offer me the job of a lifetime. I sat down in front of his desk, we shot the breeze for a few minutes, and then he finally leaned back in his chair, looked at me for a moment, and finally said, “I’ve got a piece I want written and I think you’re the man for the job, Phil.” Just like that. No explanation until I asked him to clarify._

_The piece he wanted me to write was about soldiers in war zones. He wanted a in depth, firsthand account of the lifestyle of the American soldier in the Middle East. Now, my friend Nick is former military, so I could see immediately what he wanted to get out there. He wanted people to know what it was really like for the men and women overseas. However, I hadn’t been to the Middle East in well over fifteen years, so I had to ask him what on earth he saw me in that position for. His reply was simple. “Phil, you’re the only person on my staff that knows a damn thing about combat situations.”_

_I replied, “But Nick, I wasn’t in the military. I have no idea what a combat situation is like, and why would that matter? Nobody would let a civilian near the combat zones.”_

_Nick’s answer was pretty straight forward._

**July 2012, Manhattan**

Nick rolled his eyes at Phil. “What I mean by that, Coulson, is that you’ve been around gunfire and bombs, so if something happens, you won’t get killed cause you’re a stupid ass,” he pointed out. “You’re ex-CIA so you know damn well how to react in case there’s an attack on the base. It’s not likely, where I’m sending you is a pretty damn safe place, but it’s a warzone. Shit happens.”

Phil chuckled and nodded. “Alright. Where am I headed and when?”

“Afghanistan,” Nick replied. “First week of August through the end of October.”

“Three months?” Phil asked, curiously. “How did you get a pass for a civilian writer to live on a base for three months? Or are you sending my ass into a civilian zone?”

Nick smirked. “I still have friends in certain places, Coulson.” He spun his chair and stood up. “It took some work, but I’ve got a friend that’s in administrative. High ranking military. No names but let’s just say when I asked for the clearance, he needed a candidate that could be vouched for. When I made a call to Natasha Romanov to ask for her to vouch for my ex-CIA writer in a combat zone, her letter of recommendation extolled your virtues as a smart, levelheaded guy.” He shrugged. “My General friend was impressed enough to give me the clearance for you and only you.” He looked out the window. “Nobody else can take this piece, Phil. It’s gotta be you. It’s eleven weeks, you’ll be floating on base mostly unsupervised. You’ll have clearance to certain areas, you’ll have a few people to guide you around and give you details, introduce you and such. This is a base with civilian contractors and Red Cross so you won’t be too out of place.”

Phil nodded. “Alright. What is my directive? What’s the piece you really want?”

“You’re a good writer, Phil,” Nick said, giving him a knowing look. “You find me the best story and write it. Human interest, obviously. I don’t care about any scandal about drinking on the job, I want a _real_ story. Something real. Something that will move people. I want something that makes people motherfuckin’ wanna hug somebody, you get me, Coulson?” he asked him.

Phil took in his expectant look and nodded. “Yeah, I get you. I’ll see what I can do.”

~

**May 2014, Manhattan**

_I wonder sometimes what my life would be like right now if I hadn’t been given that assignment. If Nick had never asked me to go to Afghanistan I would’ve never met the small group of people who, in just eleven weeks, changed everything about my life. Afghanistan changed me in more ways than one and it was only because of my past job in the government that Nick was able to get me clearance to be there. Any other person at the office could’ve got the job if it was easier to get them clearance, and if they had, I wouldn’t be the person I am today._

“Hey Coulson!” Phil lifted his head, looking around to see who called his name only to smile when he saw Skye walking his way. “What’re you up to? A new article?” she asked, sitting at the table next to him. 

“It’s so nice to see you writing!” Simmons said as she sat down beside Skye. “I was just telling Fitz the other day that I couldn’t wait for your next piece.”

Phil looked at his laptop and shook his head. “Not an article,” he answered. “Not this time anyhow. I’ll have something else for you guys to read pretty soon, though.”

“You’re writing again?” a male voice said, and Phil bit back a laugh when Skye and Simmons both glared at Fitz for interrupting.

“Yes, you dimwit, we were just talking about it!” Simmons said and Skye laughed at her friends.

Skye grinned and turned back to Phil. “So what’re you writing? Oooh fiction finally?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “I bet you can write the hell out of a mystery novel.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m actually writing about- about Afghanistan,” he said, and Fitz and Simmons both stopped their bickering immediately, eyes flickering to him in surprise. He nodded. “That’s what Pepper said.”

“That’s very brave of you, Mr. Coulson,” Fitz said in a very earnest tone. “Is it the story you were originally going to write before- well, before?” 

Phil smiled sadly, looking back at his screen. “Actually it’s about Clint.” He heard Skye’s breath catch and he looked up at her. “Nick told me when he assigned me to the piece in Afghanistan that he wanted something that would make people – and I quote – ‘motherfuckin’ wanna hug people’.” Phil shrugged. “Pretty sure this is enough to do it.”

Simmons nodded, her big eyes twinkling suspiciously. “Most definitely,” she said softly, surreptitiously sliding her hand into Fitz’s on the table and squeezing. 

“Makes me want to hug _you_ ,” Skye said with a forced smile. “But hey, I know your writing. You’ll kill it,” she said confidently, only to pale suddenly and put a hand over her mouth. “I- I mean- I’m-“

“Skye!” Fitz all but squeaked, eyes wide in shock.

Skye babbled more but Phil just cleared his throat, standing reluctantly. “I’m… gonna go get a coffee and then head out for a walk. Don’t worry about it.” He headed up to the counter and could hear Skye babbling apologies and Simmons and Fitz chastising her for not thinking before speaking. 

~

After getting his coffee and gathering his things, Phil found himself sitting in the park, laptop open on his lap while he watched joggers passing and kids running around on the grass while their parents watched them. Further away there were some college kids throwing a football and he was struck by a memory that had him putting his fingers to the keyboards immediately.

**August 2012, Afghanistan**

Phil was flying in on a military flight with some troops on their way to the same place as Phil. Phil had no idea what to expect when he got to the base, but he had plenty of time to imagine it. He was supposed to meet his escort – a group on their way to the base itself – when he got off the plane, so he was surprised when, as they were told to prepare for descent by the pilot, a man in uniform flopped into the seat beside him, which had been vacant the whole flight, and gave him a friendly smile. “You look like you’re probably Mr. Coulson,” he opened with, and Phil raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

“That’s me,” he said, offering his hand. “Phil Coulson, so you can call me Phil.”

The man smiled another ridiculously friendly smile and took his hand, shaking it firmly with a strong grip that fit his large, impressive physical presence better than the innocent, puppy-like smile on his face. “Captain Steve Rogers. You can call me Steve if I can call you Phil.” He buckled his seatbelt as he kept talking. “Colonel Phillips assigned me to be the one responsible for making sure you get to the right place.”

Phil hummed. “Phillips. Sounds familiar so that must be my boss’s contact who got him this favor.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, it’s not that uncommon for journalists to come over, but usually it’s frontline correspondence type journalism, not writers without a camera crew,” he explained. “And rarely do they stay on base, usually they’re the crazies like Anderson Cooper that go out and get themselves kidnapped or killed in a roadside bomb or something,” he said and Phil laughed in surprise.

“I take it you don’t appreciate frontline journalism?” he asked and Steve shrugged, giving him a sheepish smile.

“I guess it’s their job and it’s what they wanna do, but it always causes problems for us.” He waved a hand. “I do training for the Afghan army, try and get them ready to replace us pretty soon so more men and women can go home, you know? So I’m out there a lot of the time when journalists get themselves in trouble. It’s always bad business.”

Phil nodded. “So this may be obvious, but you’ve been deployed before this?” he asked and Steve nodded.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been in the Army since I was nineteen, so it’s hard to make it so many years without a deployment. Could be worse,” he said. “This is a nice base in the grand scheme of the middle east right now. Couple of guys I know have been here for a few months already and just the fact they were able to Skype with me tells you all you need to know about living conditions.” He cringed. “Last summer I spent four months living in _tent_ , not even a B-hut, but a tent, before I got finished with that rotation and sent back state-side to do some training in Texas.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “I thought the average deployments were longer than that?”

“They are,” Steve answered. “But I got a promotion so I had to be pulled for training. I’m starting a twelve-month deployment now.” 

Phil winced slightly. “Man, has to be hard being away from your family for that long,” he said, his mind already whirring at the thought of a ‘heartfelt’ story about soldiers being away from their families. 

Surprisingly, however, Steve just shook his head with a small smile. “I don’t have any family back home. All my friends are military, too. I’m actually happy with this one, because for the next ten months I’m on the same base as the only family I’ve got. Even if we don’t get too see each other much at all, a cup of coffee every week or two is a lot more than being on opposite continents and then on different bases like it has been for the past few deployments.” Steve’s smile dimmed some. “But yeah, for everybody else it’s real hard,” he said more seriously. “It’s different for me, cause I’m an orphan, no brothers or sisters, no family of any kind, right? But if I had them? Parents, siblings, or worse, kids?” He shook his head. “It’d be rough. It’s real hard for a lot of the men and women I work with. I’ve known more than one fella to be over here when his kid is born and not even meet them until they’re almost a year old.”

Phil winced. “Yeah, I can see how rough that would be.” He looked at Steve. “Any of your friends got kids?” he asked, trying not to make it obvious he was trying to find a story already. He felt kind of low for it, but he was there to do a job and he may as well start while they were already on the subject.

Steve made a face. “Well some of the guys I know or work with, but none of my real friends have any. Thank God, cause we’ve all been over here at least three tours each.”

Phil wanted to ask more questions, but they landed and the conversation dropped for a while as they gathered their things to disembark. It wasn’t until they got in the truck that was picking them up that they got a chance to strike up another conversation, but this time it started with introductions. “Steve!” a guy called and Steve nodded for Phil to follow him to the waiting truck. When they got there, Steve hopped in the front and gestured for Phil to climb in the back. He shut the door in time to see Steve leaning over and slapping their driver on the back.

“Good to see you, Sam,” Steve said brightly. He turned back to Phil. “Phil, this is Captain Sam Wilson, but whatever you do, don’t let him talk you into calling him ‘Falcon’,” he joked and Sam rolled his eyes. Steve smirked. “He’s Airforce, not Army, and all the PJs like to give themselves nicknames. It’s dumb and it’s bad to encourage them,” he teased good-naturedly.

“Don’t listen to Steve, Phil,” he said, then turned to gesture to the seat beside Phil. “Sorry, man, but the Boss Man said we gotta put you in a helmet and flak vest,” he said, and Phil finally realized what the pile in the other seat was. 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “We’re not even leaving the secure area. We’re literally driving him from the airport to meet Phillips without getting outside the perimeter.”

Sam shrugged. “I know, but orders are orders. I guess he wants him wrapped up in case there’s a mortar attack in the fifteen minutes between the plane and the office.”

Phil chuckled. “I get the distinct feeling that the ‘favor’ of letting me stay here for a couple months was begrudging,” he said as he wrestled the heavy vest on and started on the straps.

“Here, I can help you with- or not,” Steve said, looking surprised when Phil had no trouble at all getting on the vest and helmet. He eyed him curiously. “I’m getting the distinct feeling you’re not quite as civilian as I’ve been led to believe,” he said in a playfully suspicious tone, narrowing his eyes comically. 

Sam laughed as they started driving. “Lemme guess. Not so civilian?”

Phil smiled, tilting his head some. “Have been for over a decade. I’m a writer now, but once upon a time I was CIA,” he admitted and Sam whistled.

“So _that’s_ why a writer’s hanging out with us. I’m guessing you got special clearance based on your past?” he asked.

“I think so. My boss is ex-military. He was an old drinking buddy of Colonel Phillips. Said that the only reason he let my boss send me was because I had excellent letters of recommendation by my old subordinates at the CIA who all assured him that, should the base get attacked while I’m here, I wouldn’t lose my shit and get people killed,” Phil explained. 

Sam snorted. “Ah.” He shrugged. “I would say that’s unlikely, since there hasn’t been one since I been here, but shit happens. We could have mortars fired on us tomorrow for all I know.”

Over the longer-than-expected ride, Phil got to know a little about the base as they were driving around and, as Steve said, it was a pretty nice place for a military base. He definitely hadn’t expected to get stuck in traffic, that was for sure. His talk with Colonel Phillips was pretty short, sweet, and to the point. 

“You don’t go anywhere you’re not supposed to be, you don’t go anywhere besides the main social and recreational areas without somebody in a uniform escorting you, you _do not_ interfere with my men’s duties, and you do not piss off the wrong hothead and get your ass kicked and my boys in trouble, are we clear?” had been pretty much all he said before dismissing Phil to go with Rogers to drop off his bags at his barracks and be shown around.

Phil had expected a bunk with some other contractors, but he was more than surprised to find he had a small private room in the contractors building. He looked at the note laid on the small cot and laughed when he read it. “I won’t have your typing keeping my contractors awake. Colonel Phillips,” he read out loud before dumping his stuff and heading back to the door to meet with Steve.

Steve whistled, looking at his room. “Damn, lucky guy,” he said, grinning as they walked back to the stairs down the side of the building. “Contractors always have it nicer. Contractors and Air Force,” he said. “Although, I’m just lucky enough to not be in a B-hut. The guys we’re going to meet now? They’re all in B-huts.”

Phil cringed. “Yeah, I was expecting that before I looked into this place. I wouldn’t have had a problem bunking with the other contractors but hey, this is an upgrade.”

He and Steve walked down a less-traveled road with fewer and fewer vehicles passing them until they got to an open area where some guys were throwing around a football. They jogged across the road and headed over to some tables set up where some others were all sitting. “Watch this,” Steve said, jogging over and leaping over the table to land right beside a young woman with dark hair. “KATE!” he shouted and she screamed, falling off the bench in surprise.

A couple soldiers around them laughed, but the girl – Kate he assumed – jumped up and shoved Steve off the table. “Fucker!” she snapped, then grinned and tugged him to his feet – impressive for a girl half his size it seemed – and hugged him briefly. “About damn time you got your ass over here, Rogers!”

Steve grinned, shoving her playfully. “Yeah, yeah.” He gestured to Phil. “Phil, this is Kate Bishop. She used to be in my patrol,” he said. “Kate, this is Phil Coulson, he’s a writer that Phillips is letting live on base for a few months. I’m in charge of showing him around the first few days.”

“A writer, huh?” Phil looked up at the new voice and his breath caught momentarily when the man sitting on the other side of the table from Kate turned his head and Phil was hit with the full force of a sly smirk and gorgeous blue eyes with no warning. He was pretty much one of the more attractive men Phil had seen in a long time, but what really got him was the look in his eyes. The man’s face seemed to read ‘mildly interested in these events’ while his eyes showed a bright, alive curiosity that drew Phil in immediately. “Not another journalist, are ya?”

Phil smiled and shook his head. “Nah, not gonna get in people’s way like those guys. My boss just knew the right guy and was able to get me clearance to snoop around and get to know some people on base.” He stepped closer and offered his hand. “Phil Coulson,” he said, and the guy shook his hand, grinning with a slightly more interested gleam in his eyes.

“Clint Barton,” he said, then patted the table. “May as well sit down, Kate stole Steve from you,” he said and Phil looked up to see that Steve had indeed wandered off, though Kate was coming back to flop down on the bench beside Phil.

“So, what are you writing anyways?” Kate asked him.

Phil shrugged. “I don’t know yet. All my editor said was a ‘human story’. So I figure I’ll probably find somebody with a really moving story about life away from home or something. I just got here, though. I’ve got almost three months to find a story so I’m not in a hurry,” he dismissed.

Clint chuckled. “I can give you a hell of a story,” he said, smirking at Phil. “Think your editor would be interested in writing about a soldier’s gay romance?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Phil gave him a curious glanced.

Kate snorted. “Oh dear God, Barton, the man’s just got here, are you seriously flirting with him already?” she asked and Phil felt his ears warming.

Clint just laughed and shook his head, the sun making the motion create gold glints in his dirty blonde hair. “I mean Rogers, dumbass,” he said, then winked at Phil before looking back at her with a cocky grin. “Besides, he’d know if I was flirting with him, Katie-Kate,” he said and she groaned dramatically.

Phil was more than a little amused by the exchange. He sure hadn’t expected this to be his first conversation with someone besides Steve. “Rogers, huh?” he asked, leaning back some to look around Kate. “He said he didn’t have anybody back home.”

Clint nodded. “He sure doesn’t,” he said, then gestured to the guys who had been playing football. Phil looked over and saw that Steve was standing talking to a guy off to the side while the others kept playing. The man was a little shorter than Steve, with dark hair. Phil could only see Steve’s face and the other guy’s back, but he could tell they seemed to be standing a little _extra_ close together as they talked animatedly. Steve’s face lit up with a thousand-watt smile and a blindingly happy look in his eyes as he listened to whatever the guy was saying.

Phil smiled. “That’s what he meant about being glad to be over here for the next ten months,” he said and Clint nodded, turning an interesting smile in the direction of Steve and his friend.

“Yep. Barnes came back two months before he did,” he explained, voice holding a strange warmth.

Phil looked up at Clint curiously. “Are they allowed to interact though? Aren’t there anti-fraternization rules?”

Kate nodded, picking at her pants. “Nobody’s supposed to have sex on base.”

Clint hummed, eyes lingering on Steve. “They’re technically not supposed to be deployed to the same base but since Barnes is one of mine and Rogers has his own operations on the other end of the base, the ‘powers that be’ kinda look the other way. Nobody really bothers enforcing the ‘can’t date other soldiers’ thing as long as there’s no chain of command between the two when you’re back home or on opposite deployments, and Rogers and Barnes have been together since Barnes joined up,” he said and Phil raised an eyebrow.

“Wow, and they’ve kept it together?” he asked and Clint snorted.

“Last year when Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell got repealed, it was only a few months after New York legalized same-sex marriage, so our two Brooklyn boys went and got married when they were both home back in November,” he said and Phil whistled.

“Damn. You weren’t lying when you said it was a hell of a human story,” he said and Clint nodded with a surprisingly sappy smile. “You know,” Phil said, chuckling to himself. “The whole ‘even just a cup of coffee every week or two is better than being back home’ thing makes a lot more sense now.”

Kate scoffed. “Fuck that, I’d rather have an ocean between me and whoever I was with because at least when you’re deployed and can’t get laid the person you wanna screw isn’t close enough you _could_ if the temptation got too bad.” She shook her head, lips quirking as she glanced their way. “I give it three months before they get their asses caught and sent home.”

Clint hummed but shook his head. “I don’t know, they’re not allowed to interact outside of social areas in their downtime, which are things that won’t line up a lot since Rogers doesn’t even eat at the same mess as us. Hard to get in trouble for screwing somebody that you get maybe ten minutes to see every few weeks,” he said and Kate rolled her eyes.

“Whatever you say, Barton. I just know if I had put a ring on a big, sexy thing like Rogers I wouldn’t last two weeks before I snuck off to his room,” she said and Clint barked out a laugh, giving Kate an affectionate shove.

Phil looked between them with a raised eyebrow. “I thought anti-fraternization regs didn’t apply to married couples?”

Clint shook his head. “Only would count if they’d got married before Steve got promoted.”

Kate shrugged. “Plus it wouldn’t matter since they’re opposite ends of the base. Steve’s training the Afghan dudes, Barnes is one of us. Same base doesn’t necessarily mean much with one this big.”

“If they worked in similar areas and had been married before Steve got promoted, they could’ve lived together on base,” Clint said. “Buuuut the way it is, that didn’t happen.”

Kate smacked Clint’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “Hey Barton. If they _did_ get caught getting busy, how much trouble you think they’d get in?” she asked curiously.

Clint whistled. “Man, a lot. I mean I doubt they’d kick them out or send them home, but Steve would probably lose his promotion, that’s for damn sure.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Do they really expect people that young – especially a married couple – to _not_ have sex on base? For a year?” he asked skeptically.

Kate shrugged. “We’re not allowed alcohol or porn either. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen,” she said, and Clint snickered.

“Oh especially here where there’s more privacy than group barracks in tents. I know a dude who got _discharged_ for running a contraband booze trade from his B-hut,” he said and Phil chuckled.

Kate nodded. “There have been like fifty pregnancies on base, so somebody’s getting it on.”

“Too bad I don’t need a scandal,” Phil said with a chuckle.

Kate grinned. “Why, think you can seduce a girl and write about base sex?” she asked and Phil ducked his head with a smile.

“Pretty sure I’m a bit old for anybody around here,” he said, then shrugged. “And wrong gender,” he added in such an offhand manner that Kate barked out a laugh.

“I like you, man. Barely met you and I already know I like you,” she said with a nod in his direction.

Phil sat back and watched as the game started up again, Steve joining in this time, content to just sit and listen and try and get an idea of who was who on the base. If his eyes lingered on Clint Barton a little longer than necessary, nobody had to know that.

~

It was Steve’s only night to eat dinner with his friends, so Phil tagged along rather than keep him away from his last night to hang out with his friends before he started his duties. He kept getting distracted by the people that stopped to talk to Steve and congratulate him on his promotion, but thankfully Barton leaned in to murmur explanations of who everybody was. As a blonde woman walked away from them, he raised his voice, smirking across the table at Rogers and Barnes. “And that was Lieutenant Morse, who desperately wants in Sergeant Barnes’s pants, even though he told her he’s married,” he drawled, wiggling his eyebrows. “Whadya think, Barnes? Tall blondes don’t do it for you,” he teased.

Barnes smirked, winking at him. “Too bad you’re average height and the wrong shade of blonde, Barton,” he said, then bumped his shoulder into Steve’s. “Tall blondes are definitely my type, and all, she just didn’t get their first,” he joked, and Steve rolled his eyes at the dorky face he was pulling. 

Kate snickered from Phil’s other side. “What about you, Rogers? Any of those PJs you hang out with on your side of the base look good when you got in? I heard you got a _friend_ over there.”

Steve held up his left hand, wiggling his fingers. “Universal ‘don’t hit on me’ beacon, at the ready.” Bucky smiled and held up his left hand, showing off a wedding band as well, both him and Steve snickering as they high fived. “God, you’re a dork,” Steve said, and Bucky shrugged, nudging their shoulders together.

“You say this like it’s news, Pal,” he drawled and Steve shook his head, but when he looked up and caught Phil’s eyes, Phil was somewhat charmed by the open, unrestrained amount of love and happiness he could see in the young man’s eyes. 

The thing is, Phil was observant. He knew as soon as he and Steve started talking that, just by looking at him, this was a man that, in spite of his short life so far, clearly had faced a lot of adversity. He spoke like he was constantly upbeat and content, but there was no missing the steely glint to his eyes that made it obvious that this man was a hardened career soldier underneath his youthful, exuberance. He was twenty-six years old, if Phil remembered correctly, but he had seen just as much if not more of the cruelties of humanity in those years as Phil had seen in his forty-three, including his time in the CIA. 

So to see how someone who carried himself with the air and poise of a career soldier and an officer at that lit up with pure, unadulterated happiness was a surprisingly moving experience. Steve’s earnest demeanor was most likely never more evident than when he was laughing and joking around with his best friend and _husband_. “I sure didn’t expect that,” he muttered under his breath, speaking to himself as he was sometimes wont to do. 

“Didn’t expect what?” Barton asked, his blue eyes twinkling with a casual curiosity, and Phil gave him a half-smile, keeping his voice low since everybody else seemed content to laugh at Steve and Bucky calling each other names and insulting each other.

“Rogers,” he said simply. “He’s a pretty complex character. I had him pegged for the usual perpetually upbeat but no less seasoned career soldier, you know? And look at him?” He smiled and inclined his head, subtly gesturing to Steve. “Even with such a mature grace to him and a weathered look in his eyes that says he’s seen enough to give him plenty of reason to be withdrawn and full of disdain, that kid is still just that. A twenty-something year old kid.” 

Barton’s face was carefully blank but there was a glint of something almost like surprise in his eyes as he looked at Phil in silence for a few moments, almost as if trying to figure him out. Phil waited patiently, in no hurry to draw more attention to them from the others. After what felt like both eons and seconds all the same, Barton’s lips curled in amusement. “Not sure what to focus on there,” he muttered. “The fact in a matter of just a few hours you were observant enough to read all of that in a man I’ve known five years and still barely see that much of…” His smile grew into a full on grin. “Or the fact you can make that kind of an observation sound all poetic and shit.”

Phil chuckled, leaning back some to take a drink from his bottle of water. “Well, I write for a living and I’m good enough I got this assignment. I’m not modest enough to refrain from pointing out that I’m a damn good writer, and flowery words come with the territory.”

Clint let out a startled laugh, unable to stop himself. “Damn, nobody would accuse you of having an ego, huh, Hemingway?”

“I prefer the term ‘self-assured’, thanks,” he joked and he saw the amusement in Barton’s eyes when he nodded.

“Sure thing, Boss.” He looked at his watch and leaned forward to look past Phil. “Alright, Corporal Bishop, we’ve got drills at 0600, so it’s time to walk you back to your barracks.”

Steve looked up, then checked his watch. “Crap, I need to head back to my side of the base,” he said, looking at Kate. “Hey Kate, I’ll walk you, it’s on my way,” he offered.

She nodded, closing her water bottle. “Thanks, Steve,” she said, standing up. Steve looked at Barnes with a deeper expression and Phil watched in fascination as they seemed to have an entire conversation with one look.

Clint rolled his eyes. “New idea, how ‘bout we all walk Katie as a group. And have a nice couple of chats on the way,” he hinted.

Phil smiled in amusement when Barnes gave him a grateful nod and stood. Phil remained sitting, but Barton grabbed his jacket and tugged at him until he stood up. “You too, Boss. Don’t want you getting lost on your way to whatever cushy contractors barracks they got you in.” Phil almost argued, but decided not to. He wanted to see what Clint had schemed up with their little ‘group walk’. 

As they walked, the sun already set so that the buildings and bodies of people walking cast shadows from the lights of the vehicles passing, Kate fell back to walk with Clint and Phil, so that Steve and Bucky could talk without her listening in. When they got to a low building that Phil assumed was a group barracks, Kate waved to them and jogged up the ramp to the door, already saying ‘hi’ to someone before the door shut. Clint rolled his eyes at the surreptitious glances Barnes was throwing their way and gestured to the couple.

“I’ll keep watch for a minute, just keep the goodbye PG,” he groaned, turning his back on them. Phil raised an eyebrow at him and Clint made a face. “Just look away, it’s gonna get sappy,” he warned in a low tone and Phil looked over his shoulder at where Rogers and Barnes were standing somewhat in the shadows, holding hands. Clint rolled his eyes at whatever he saw on Phil’s face. “You’re a romantic, aren’t you?” he guessed and Phil shrugged.

“Not particularly. It’s just interesting to see. It’s a very unique situation they’re in,” he said and Clint chuckled sadly, nodding.

“Yeah, it sure is,” he agreed. Phil finally looked away when facing each other and holding hands while they had a whispered conversation turned to Rogers ducking his head and pressing a kiss to his husband’s lips. Phil’s reluctance to watch a private scene must’ve shown on his face cause Clint groaned. “Ah man, at least tell me the hands are in PG places,” he groused and Phil chuckled and snuck a peek long enough to confirm that they were still holding hands and keeping it ‘PG’.

They waited politely, keeping watch for pedestrians walking their way, until Steve said, in a voice clearly meant to carry, “Bye, Buck. Stay safe, okay? I’ll try and catch you in the rec center next week.”

Barnes pulled him into a quick hug. “You stay safe too. Love you, Stevie,” he said and Steve sighed reluctantly as he pulled away.

“Love you too, Bucky.” He waved over to Phil and Clint. “See ya Clint! Hope to see you again soon, Phil!” he called, then with one last wave, he jogged off in the other direction.

When Barnes got over to them Barton clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m good,” Barnes said in a tone that suggested this was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before, no matter how much it sucked. “I’m gonna head on back to mine, you wanna get our new writer friend back to his place?” he asked, and Clint nodded.

“Yeah, man, I’ve got this, go ahead,” he said, and Phil waved to Barnes as he headed off in a different direction than they were going.

Phil gestured to the right. “I can really get back on my own,” he said, and Clint gave him a knowing look.

“Please. I got lost my first week here, this is your first six hours still,” he said, falling into step besides Phil. 

Phil looked up at the sky, smiling at the stars that were visible by the millions in spite of the lights of the base. He looked back at Clint. “So what was all this anyways?” he asked, gesturing behind them. “Was that all just a cover for those two to get their goodbye in private, or do you usually walk Corporal Bishop to her barracks?” he asked.

Clint grimaced, and even in the dim light Phil could see bitter, angry look filling his features. “I’m damn well not letting her walk home alone anymore,” he said, and Phil raised an eyebrow. Clint sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Two weeks ago some bastard contractor raped a private on her way back from the gym,” he said, and Phil actually stopped walking in surprise. He really hadn’t been expecting that.

“What? Really?” he asked, his brain skipping back into gear as he started walking again. “Jesus.”

Clint nodded. “Kate bitched the first couple of nights I walked her home if it was dark when she headed out,” he said, a fond smile. “She kept going on about how she could take any fucker that tried to hurt her, and I don’t doubt it,” he said quickly. “She’s a tough young woman, smart as hell, and I’d trust her to be at my side even if this was the old school trench warfare kinda deal we’re in,” he said, but his smile slipped and he shook his head, face growing serious. “But even the best of us can’t do shit about some fucker coming out from behind a B-hut and hitting you in the head with a brick from behind,” he said and Phil shook his head.

“Fuck,” he said, and Clint nodded silently. Phil looked over at him. “The guy that did it, did he got caught?” 

Clint’s eyes took on a vicious glint. “Oh he got caught alright,” he said in a low, almost startlingly dark tone. He looked up at Phil. “Bucky caught the bastard in the act,” he said and Phil’s eyes widened at the unexpected addition. “Some European contractor, doing construction on some new barracks or some shit. He’d saw her at the gym, followed her when she left alone, picked up a brick, waited until she was between the buildings, hit her in the head from behind, and dragged her back behind the showers and raped her. Bucky was headed that way and heard somebody groan and thought maybe somebody’d got lost when they were drunk – we don’t generally rat each other out for that kinda stuff – so he was gonna help whoever it was back to their bunk. Instead he came up on _that_.” He shook his head. “Beat the ever-loving shit out of him, man. Glad he did, too,” he said. “He almost got in trouble for it, but I talked to some of the higher ups about it.” He grimaced. “Poor kid was eighteen years old, Coulson,” he said in a tight voice. “An eighteen year old kid shipped over here straight out of basic because she speaks Arabic and we always need some more translators, and three months on base and she gets a fractured skull and fuckin’ _raped_.” He looked into the distance, jaw clenching and unclenching in a way that would be mesmerizing if it wasn’t the result of talking about something so horrible.

Phil ducked his eyes, looking at the path as they walked slowly. “And to think I expected all the horrible things I’d hear about over here to be about war,” he mumbled softly.

Clint chuckled sadly. “It’s all about war, Coulson,” he said, looking up to meet his eyes. “The same thing that makes a piss-poor excuse of a man even think about knocking out an eighteen year old girl and raping her is the same thing that makes people kidnap journalists, or bomb bazaars, or plant IEDs, or open fire on a convoy.” He shook his head. “It’s greed, and arrogance, and selfishness. It’s this mentality some people get that they’re more important than other people and everything should be their way.” He sighed heavily. “And when people with the right charisma and manipulative talent have that, they can wrap their conceit in a package that makes it sound like it’s a way forward, for the good of the group, and not entirely for selfish reasons, and that’s what starts wars.” He shook his head. “A handful of greedy bastards, just like that animal that raped that girl. That’s what is behind every war in human history. Not just wars like this, with guns and bombs, but anything. Oppression of certain groups, dirty business dealing, crooked politics… it’s all a type of war, and every single instance of war starts that same goddamn way. Somebody is arrogant but charismatic enough to sell their arrogance as a ‘vision’.” He chortled. “And then everything goes to shit.”

Phil watched him as he spoke, and through it all he couldn’t help the smile growing on his face. When they stopped outside his building, Barton finished talking and Phil inclined his head. “What was that about me making things sound poetic?” he joked and Barton chuckled, shrugging.

“Sometimes even a blonde has a moment of clarity,” he said in a mock-serious tone that made Phil’s smile brighten some.

“Thanks for the walk and the philosophy lesson, Barton,” he said, and Barton waved as he turned.

“Anytime, Boss Man,” he called back with a playful bow before walking away into the darkness as Phil turned and headed up the stairs to get to his room.

 **May 2014, Manhattan**

“‘As soon as I got to my room, I grabbed a notepad and a pen – too rushed to wait for my laptop to boot up – and furiously endeavored to take down the exact words and phrases Clint had used to describe such a profound ideal. I admit that, in my haste and because of the realities of a middle-aged memory, some words were probably lost, and there is some paraphrasing in what you read, but that moment, that brief exchange my first night in Afghanistan, marked the most important chapter of my life turning over to page one. Because, while there had been a spark of attraction, as one has when you see someone pleasing to the eyes, the moment I laid eyes on him, the brief conversation in which such a profound idea was expressed to me was my first taste of the person I would soon fall unexpectedly, irrevocably, yet ardently in love with. The spark that first lit the fire may have been attraction to his physical appearance, but the thing that consumed me was _him_.

‘And that night, under an endless canopy of stars, with the mountains silhouetted against the moon in the distance, surrounded by plywood temporary housing units and half-constructed brick and mortar barracks, I got my first taste, my first tentative glimpse of the intelligent, observant, funny, haunted, protective, damaged, brave, scarred, and yet all around _good_ man who would within a matter of weeks become the greatest gift I’ve ever received in life. 

‘So as I sat on the lumpy, uncomfortable cot in my room, scribbling down every word before it could slip away like water through a strainer, my only real thought was that something so profound could be a great quote for my piece. It was only later that I really understood that those words were the first seeds of what would be the greatest and most life-changing journey of my life.’- Jesus fucking Chris, Phil!” Skye looked up from the screen, gaping at him. “Dude. This- this is just…”

“It’s bloody brilliant, that’s what it is,” Fitz said in a strangled tone, blinking rapidly as he gestured to the laptop. “Holy shit.”

Simmons sniffled, and nodded, fighting back the tears he could see pooled in her eyes. “We knew you were a good writer, but this is just… it’s just beautiful,” she said, laughing wetly. “God, it sounds like a fairytale, not someone’s real story.”

Skye nodded. “Except it _feels_ so real. I can see everything from the sky to Clint’s facial expressions, it’s so vivid. You can tell that you were there, that this isn’t made up. This is- this is honestly just a few days’ work?!” she asked, and Phil nodded with a placid smile.

“A week so far. Like I say in there, it’s just the beginning,” he said, and Skye just shook her head.

“Your boss won’t know what hit him,” she said and Fitz and Simmons nodded seriously.

“Thank you for letting Skye read it out loud to us,” Simmons said in a soft tone. “It’s honestly incredible and I cannot wait to see how well the whole story turns out.”

Fitz hummed, nodding. “I’ll tell you what, Coulson, if you keep that level of emotional connection to the reader going all the way through the story of you and Clint Barton, you’ll have to warn me so I can buy stock in Kleenex just before it’s released.”

Phil smiled and chuckled, but nodded. “Thanks, guys. I’m glad you like it so far.” He shrugged. “I was kinda worried it was a little too sappy, so I needed a second opinion.”

Skye smiled sadly. “It would only be sappy if this wasn’t all _true_. If this was fiction, it would be unbelievably sappy, stress on the ‘unbelievable’. But it’s nonfiction. It’s your life and your real emotions. And it’s not overly sappy when the reader knows that these emotions are _your_ emotions.” She slid his laptop back to him, nodding. “You’ve got a winner. No doubt. Instant Best-Seller, I’m confident just on the beginning.”

Phil gave them all a warm look, meeting their eyes individually before nodding with finality. “Alright, I’ll trust you. But now I think it’s time for a break. I’m definitely feeling sappy after this little love-fest,” he joked.

Skye took the hint and instantly launched into a discussion of the new system she wand Fitz were designing for Stark, distracting Phil from the moment easily.

~

Phil didn’t like working at home, so when he decided he was ready to work again, he moved Arrow – the fluffy orange tabby – off his knee and gathered his things to go to the office. It was a Sunday afternoon so nobody was in, but their floor was always available to anybody who worked there. He didn’t have regular hours since he was pretty much given a topic and told to ‘go with it’, but he had an office all the same. He had worked there a long time and his boss’s boss knew it was worth a mostly unused office to keep Phil happy and writing. When he got to his office, he looked around for a moment. It had been nearly three weeks since he was even there for a visit, nonetheless there to work. He had no deadline for this piece. He had spent most of the last year putting off this one, choosing instead to write small pieces about local art installations or remodeling on local cathedrals. 

Phil sat at his desk and opened his laptop. His heart clenched at the photo he had made his wallpaper since he started writing. It was a photo of the group he’d become friends with while in Afghanistan. It was almost like a form of motivation for him to see faces of people he cared about, some of whom were no longer living, and be reminded that they all deserve for this story to be out there. They deserve to be recognized as people who changed his life. Even if his story focused on a romance between two people, the others in the story weren’t unimportant in any way, they all mattered just as much as he and Clint did because they all contributed to a chapter in Phil’s life that was a complete reawakening in his soul.

As Phil opened the document he couldn’t help but smile as he thought about exactly how different his story was from the one he started to write. 

_My first few days on base, I mostly went around and got to know where things were. The Air Force side of the base was definitely a nicer area, but I met more people willing to talk to me about themselves on the other side of the base. I discovered on my second day – the first full day- that one of the Air Force colonels and I had a mutual friend, so I spent much of the day getting to know him and having him show me around, but on my third day, I spent so much time speaking with so many different people on the other side of the base. Everyone had a different story, everyone came from a different place, every single one of them had a unique take on the base._

_But the evening of my fourth day, after spending most of it having been invited to oversee some of the training that Captain Rogers and his coworkers were doing, I discovered how shockingly even more incredible his and Sergeant Barnes’s story really was._

**August, 2012**

Phil was surprised when he picked up some food at the mess and the only ones of the friends he had started to make that were eating that night seemed to be Barton, Barnes, and Bishop. “You know,” he said as he sat down, smiling in amusement. “I just realized your names all start with Bs. Was that on purpose?” he asked and Clint grinned at him.

“No, but I’ve never realized that,” he said, looking at the other two. “See, guys? Our crew was fated,” he said with a dramatic fluttering of his eyelashes. He looked at Phil and took a bite out of his apple, smirking. “You’re a C, you can’t sit with us,” he joked.

Phil nodded seriously, his eyes alight the same way Clint’s were. “Of course I can’t.” 

“So, I hear you got invited to watch Rogers training group today,” Kate said, looking at him closely. “What did you do to get invited to that?”

“I guess they just wanted me to see what they were up to,” he responded. “I’m a writer, it’s something interesting, I guess. Not sure I want to write about watching a bunch of drills, though,” he added.

Barnes looked at him searchingly, though his face was carefully blank. “So…” He shrugged, as though expressing indifference, even if Phil could see he was anything but indifferent. “Was Steve doing okay? Did you get to talk to him?”

Phil could see Kate roll her eyes and Clint give him a knowing smirk. “He’s fine. Seemed to be having fun, really. I think he really enjoys teaching people things or something.”

Bucky grinned suddenly, eyes brighter. “Oh yeah, he loves it. The little punk used to drag me to museums just so he could teach me crap about art.”

“Art?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, Steve’s an artist,” he said brightly. “He used to take art classes after school when we were teenagers. He was gonna go to an art school for college, but then when I enlisted that dumbass decided he’d rather follow me and sure enough, I get home from nearly a year of training and little Steve ain’t so little anymore,” he said, shaking his head. “He told me he was gonna enlist too, but I didn’t take him seriously.”

“What do you mean ‘little’? Steve’s like six-two and twice as wide as me,” Phil asked curiously, only to be startled when Barton snickered beside him. “Something funny?” 

Clint snickered into his knuckles, mouth pressed to his clasped hands as he leaned against the table, his attention focused entirely on Phil “Yeah, I’ve seen the photo Barnes is about to show you,” he said, and Bucky chuckled as he pulled out his wallet and took out a photograph. He looked at it fondly for a moment before handing it over to Phil.

Phil took the small photo and glanced at it, only to stall and just _stare_. “Holy crap,” he muttered and Bucky laughed, nodding. The photograph was of Barnes with his arm slung around a small, skinny blond boy who was smiling big and bright, just the same as Steve did now. “ _That_ is Steve?” he asked incredulously.

Bucky nodded, taking it back. “Yep. He’s a year younger than me, so he was seventeen when I left. I guess a lot of boys have one last growth spurt around then. In the year I was gone, he grew nearly _four_ inches and still managed an extra inch before he stopped growing.”

Phil had a thought suddenly, and looked over to Bucky. “So you two knew each other before you enlisted, then?” he asked. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky said with a dismissive wave of his fork. “I met Steve when I was about seven, I think,” he said, and Phil did a double-take just as he had glanced down at his plate.

“You met Steve when you were seven and ended up marrying him?” he asked blankly. “Wait, you’re joking, right? No way that happened in real life,” he said, and Clint and Kate both made dramatic teasing noises at Bucky until he ducked his head sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he said softly. When he looked up his eyes were an odd mixture of distant and nostalgic. “See, when I was five, my dad died, and when I was seven my mom died. Me and my sister got put in a group home, and my sister got adopted – this was before they kept siblings together – and I didn’t,” he explained. “Well, Steve was one of the kids at the group home. His dad died in Saudi Arabia in the Gulf War and his mom died of cancer two years later, so he got there around the same time I did.” He chuckled. “We became friends because Steve was so little, you know, but he _hated_ when some of the other kids were mean to each other. There was this little girl with these big, thick glasses and the second day I was there, these two kids were picking on her and Steve punched one of them right in the nose,” he said with a small grin. “These kids were ten or twelve so he got pounded for it, but I tried to help him out and we both got pounded for it. After that, it was the two of us against the world,” he finished with a smile.

Phil stared at him for a moment, still absolutely floored. “And this _actually_ happened?” he asked again, shaking his head minutely. “That’s… an incredible story. You actually mean to say twenty years later, you’re married to the kid you met when you both got beat up for standing up to some bullies? Mind blowing,” he said honestly.

Bucky shrugged. “Never really thought about it that way, really,” he said and Clint shot him a disbelieving look.

“Seriously? Man, you and Steve are like a fairytale story and you never stopped to think about that?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “I’ve said it before, you’re not that bright, are you?” He laughed when Bucky punched him in the arm in retaliation. 

“Okay, okay, maybe it’s kinda sappy,” Bucky acknowledged. “But whatever, it’s not that different.”

Phil smiled at him, amused. “Wait, didn’t Clint say you guys have been a couple since you enlisted? So not only did you meet him when you were seven, but you started dating as teenagers?”

Clint nodded. “Yep. Steve told me they started dating senior year of high school,” he said and Bucky sighed dramatically.

“It’s not that strange! Plenty of people started dating in high school-“

Phil couldn’t help interrupt him. “And not many of those people met as little kids and ended up married almost ten years later after _both_ enlisting in the army.” He looked at him and leaned back in his seat, tapping his hand on the table. “Hey Barnes. What would you say if I decided I want to write my piece about you and your husband?” he asked, and Clint perked up.

“I told you it was a good story not ten minutes after I met you,” he said, positively preening when Bucky and Kate shot him looks. 

Phil nodded in thanks. “And you were not wrong. Not at all,” he said and Clint winked.

“I knew I wasn’t, Boss Man,” he said, and Phil chuckled softly and raised an eyebrow, meeting Clint’s playful eyes.

“What is with the ‘boss man’ thing?” he asked. “Is this some weird Midwest thing I don’t know about?” 

Clint shook his head, lips twisting in amusement. “It’s the suit, Coulson.” He reached out and slid his hand over Phil’s jacket-covered arm. Phil had to suppress the shiver that surprised him at Clint’s firm but gentle touch. “It’s eighty degrees out and you’re walking around base in a jacket and tie.”

“Hey, you have your work uniform, I’ve got mine,” he said, completely deadpan, straightening his tie. “I’m technically at work, even if I’m on the other side of the world from my office.”

Clint looked down at his tie, then back up to his face, eyes skittering over the lines of his throat and jaw, almost longingly, in a way that made Phil wonder if he was imagining it or not. “Hey, I’m not complaining, Boss Man,” he drawled, winking at him. “You can wear the hell out of a suit, that’s for damn sure.” Kate and Bucky both groaned.

“Oh that was so bad.”

“Soooo bad,” Kate agreed. 

Phil just smiled sheepishly and ducked his head. “Thanks,” he said, meeting Clint’s eye as he glanced up, taking another bite of his apple even though his gaze was locked with Clint’s, observing the shades of blue in those wide, mischievous eyes. 

~

The next morning, Phil caught Steve on his run and fell in beside him. “Hey, so I had a question,” he started with and Steve flashed him a smile.

“Good morning, Phil. And okay, what?” he asked.

Phil tried to think of how to phrase it before speaking. “I got a lot of your story from your husband last night, and I’d really like to write my piece about you two. He said I needed to check with you before he could give me a go ahead.”

Steve gave him a confused look. “What about us?” he asked and Phil was unable to hold in the snort as easily while running and trying to keep up with Steve.

“What about you? Steve, you and Bucky met when you were little boys and now, twenty years later, you’re married.” He gave him a pointed look. “You do realize how overly ‘fairy tale romance’ that is, right?”

Steve smiled brightly, ducking his head some. “Yeah, I guess it is kinda romantic,” he admitted and Phil laughed, shaking his head in disbelief at how oblivious the couple were to how rare and special their story was. “I never thought about it like that. I mean, to me it was just how we are.” Steve stared off into the distance, eyes veiled with a fond, loving gleam that made it clear who he was thinking about.

“It’s something really unique, and the kind of story that people would find heartwarming to read,” Phil said simply. “I’d really like to write it, if that’s okay with you.”

Steve glanced back at him, pulled out of his musings and he nodded, a tiny, shy smile on his lips. “Yeah, I’m fine with that.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve really gotta get going, but I’m free after about four, if you want to meet up and talk about it,” he said, and Phil agreed. Steve sped up and Phil finally slowed up, breathing a little heavily as he slowed to a walk. 

“God, I’m getting old,” he puffed, hands on his hips as he caught his breath and turned to walk back to his barracks to get together some notes.

~

“I’m _definitely_ getting old,” Phil panted as he looked up at the ceiling after falling onto his back in the indoor rec center, where he had joined Clint and some of the others in a game of volleyball. He stared up at the lights until they were blocked by Clint leaning over to look at him with open amusement displayed across his features. 

“Hey, you alive, Phil? You took that one right in the head,” he said, reaching out to hold two fingers in front of him. “How many fingers am I holding?” he asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Phil glared playfully and flipped him off. “One more than this,” he said and Clint laughed loudly.

“He’s okay!” he called over to the rest of the game before looking back to Phil’s prone figure with an almost fond expression. He walked around and offered his hand to Phil. Phil took it and stood up, smiling sheepishly when Clint’s warm, rough hand held onto his a little longer than necessary. The way Clint stared into his eyes as he slowly slid his hand out of Phil’s, fingertips skating down his palm all the way to the tips of his fingers in a move that couldn’t be anything but purposeful. “You’re gonna live,” he said in mock-seriousness.

“I’m very forgetful of my age,” Phil admitted, arching his back and wincing at the crackling when he stretched his arms over his head. “Ow,” he mumbled, and Clint winced in sympathy at a particularly loud crack.

“That doesn’t sound fun,” he said and Phil laughed, shaking his head. 

“It’s not,” he said, lowering his arms finally, rolling his neck and shaking his arms out. “I was running with Steve this morning and not even five minutes of keeping up with him and I was half-dead.” He let his head drop back heavily. “I’ve gotta face it. I’m getting old.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Oh whatever, you’re not _old_ , you’re just whiny,” he countered and Phil narrowed his eyes at him. 

“I’m an easy ten years older than you, Barton, you don’t even get to call me whiny,” he said, and Clint smirked, winking as he made a show of looking him up and down, eyes tracing Phil’s body from toes to the top of his head.

“Well, you’re a damn good lookin’ man if that’s the case, Boss,” he said in a low tone that spurred a not-entirely-unwelcome jolt of warmth into spreading through Phil’s gut, and then, as if nothing had happened, he slapped Phil on the back as he urged him towards the game again. “C’mon, get back to playing, you can take it!”

Phil groaned. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow,” he complained and Clint mimed flapping his mouth at him. The tips of his ears turned red, though, making Phil cringe internally at what exactly he said. 

Clint recovered quickly, though. “Whine, whine, whine.”

“Shove it, Barton,” Phil laughed, pushing Clint away as he grabbed the ball off the floor, going to the line to serve.

~

When Phil got to the mess on Steve’s end of the base, Steve already had them both cups of coffee waiting at the table. Steve smiled when Phil sat down across from him and gestured to it. “I left it black, just in case,” he said, and Phil nodded.

“That’s fine, thanks,” he said, taking a sip. “So, you’re sure you’re okay with me writing about you?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, why not, you know?” he said with a small wave of his hand. “I guess it is a little sweet, mine and Buck’s story,” he said with a small, shy smile. “Nobody’s really asked us the whole story before, really.”

Phil pulled out his notepad. “Do you mind if I ask some details and take some notes?” he asked, and Steve gestured for him to go ahead. “I have all the things Bucky said, about meeting you at the group home when you got in a fight with a bully and he tried to help you-“

“And we both got our butts kicked,” Steve finished, laughing softly. “Yep. That’s how I met him.” He shook his head, smiling into the distance. “He was this random new boy and I was used to getting beat up for fighting back when a bully started giving somebody grief, but that time I had somebody trying to help me out and I was so sure for about a week that Bucky was an angel,” he said, groaning and blushing. “How embarrassing is that?” he asked, grinning sheepishly. “I was six and my parents had been really religious, though, that’s my defense.”

Even Phil, who wasn’t much of a romantic at heart, no matter what Barton said, fell a little bit in love with their story at that. “Six year old Steve thought Bucky was an _angel_?” he asked for clarification, and Steve nodded with an embarrassed little chuckle.

“He tried to protect me and I didn’t know him but he still did so. I figured maybe since my parents had both gone to Heaven, God had sent me an angel to watch me for them.” He shrugged, cheeks still bright pink. “It’s stupid, but I was six.”

“It’s adorable,” Phil countered, grinning at Steve’s bashfulness. “So, Barton said something about you two getting together in high school, your senior year, but you’re a year younger than Bucky. How did that happen?” he asked curiously.

Steve’s cheeks faded some as he spoke about skipping a grade when he was at the group home since he had been home schooled before his parents died, so that he and Bucky were in the same grade in school. He talked about growing up without much at the group home, and how he and Bucky were together the whole time they were in state care, neither of them getting adopted or fostered out. He talked about how he and Bucky both emancipated when Bucky was seventeen and he was sixteen and got out on their own. 

“It was pretty stupid that we even got together,” Steve said with a grin. “See, we got an apartment and both got jobs the summer before senior year. Then after school I took art classes and Bucky worked and I just worked on weekends. So we never had a lot of money, neither of us had any way to live alone. Starting a relationship when we _needed_ each other to survive and lived together like that?” He shook his head. “Really a stupid move. But looking back, that’s probably why it didn’t happen sooner.”

Phil nodded. “I take it you had feelings for each other a lot longer than that?” he asked.

Steve’s face softened and his eyes brightened as he looked down at Phil’s pen on the paper. “I’ve probably loved Bucky since I was about ten years old, if I’m honest,” he said and Phil actually stopped writing to look up at him. Steve nodded. “No lie, he was the only person that ever mattered to me. I never had any other boyfriend than him. I’ve never kissed anybody besides him,” he admitted, blushing.

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You mean the first kid you kissed was the one you married?” he asked disbelievingly. 

Steve laughed and nodded, cheeks still scarlet. “I didn’t look in high school like I do now,” he said, and Phil smirked.

“Oh, I know, your husband has a photo of you as a teenager and he showed me,” he said and Steve gaped.

“He has a _picture_ of that?!” he asked, opening and closing his mouth a few times before grumbling, crossing his arms. “That’s not fair, I was skinny and dorky looking.” He sighed. “Either way, then you can see why I didn’t get dates,” he said and Phil smiled at his disgruntled face.

“Still, I doubt very many people at all marry the first person they kiss,” he said and Steve shrugged.

“I just didn’t have anybody want to date me before me and Bucky got together.” He grimaced. “Bucky’s another story,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Bucky had plenty of dates. And I stress the ‘dates’ part,” he said flatly. “I was the one who got hit up with the ‘why didn’t Bucky call me again?!’ complaints. I even got slapped by one girl because I didn’t know who she was since Bucky never mentioned her and she was offended.”

Phil snickered. “So she blamed you?” he asked, and Steve held up his hands as if to say ‘who knows’. “So girls? Bucky dated girls before you?”

“I guess he thought dating a lot of girls would make up for the way he felt about me,” Steve said. “I mean, we talked about it when we got together, but he seemed reluctant to get into it so I let it go. I didn’t care how many people he’d dated before me, because I felt lucky that, in spite of the evidence and against all odds, he loved me back,” he added softly.

“And when was this?” Phil asked.

Steve’s eyes dimmed a little. “He wasn’t the best student, and he got in some trouble fighting. I’d got over fighting as a fix for my problems like most kids do, but I’d still get beat up sometimes, and he couldn’t handle it. He’d beat the shit out of somebody if I told him where I got the busted lip I came home with. He knew he had a problem with his temper when it came to things like that, and he thought maybe it would be a good idea to enlist, try and fix his attitude problems.” He looked up. “And that was good! I mean, he was aware he needed help and obviously a lot of rough kids enlist and it fixes them pretty quickly. And the war over here had been going on for two years or so by then so he didn’t think it would still be going on in time for him to ever get deployed, you know?” He snorted. “Yeah, like that happened.” He shook his head. “But when he made up his mind, when he turned eighteen in March of our senior year, we got into a hell of an argument,” he said seriously. “I don’t even remember all the horrible things we said to each other, but I remember I finished it with something about how I always knew he was gonna abandon me as soon as he could get rid of me, I just never expected he’d be so desperate to get away he’d pick the army over me.” Phil winced sympathetically and Steve nodded, looking guilty. 

“That had to be rough,” Phil said, and Steve sighed, running a hand over his face.

“It was. I didn’t mean it. I knew I was his best friend and he didn’t want to leave me, I just was angry and scared and I knew how to hit home with him.” He smiled sadly. “Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders and I half-expected him to try to shake some sense into me, and he looked me dead in the eyes and said something I will never forget until the day I die,” he said, a small, happy look sparking in his eyes. “He said, ‘Dammit, Stevie, don’t you ever accuse me of trying to abandon the most important thing in my life. You’re the most precious gift God ever gave me, and don’t you dare make it seem like I’ll ever stop falling more in love with you every damn time I take a breath.’ And the second he finished talking, I kissed him because I was too heated up after the fight to bother trying to tell him I was sorry or that I loved him back.” Steve bit his lip, looking down at his ring. “In twenty years of knowing him, that’s still the sappiest thing he’s ever said,” he added in a soft, amused tone. 

Phil could hardly believe the things he was scribbling down as quickly as possible, trying not to miss a detail of the story. “And what happened next?” he asked Steve, who blushed yet again, though his mischievous grin belied his embarrassment. 

“You take a wild guess what a seventeen year old and an eighteen year old who just had an intense argument that ended in dramatic confessions of love did next,” he said pointedly and Phil snorted out a surprised laugh.

“Damn, really? Just like that? You said you’d never even kissed anybody before then,” he teased and Steve shrugged.

“The boy I was in love with was enlisting in the army and just confessed in the most dramatic way ever that I was the most ‘precious gift God ever gave him’, like that was really going to be the start of a ‘taking it slow’ relationship,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it was stupid to jump into bed together after the first kiss, especially since it was very high-emotions and we lived together and couldn’t afford to live apart if it had been awkward and not worked out, but hey, even if I can see it was a stupid idea to get together when we were so codependent, I’m looking at it from the position of it being nine years later and we’re married and both in the army,” he said, smiling brightly. “Sometimes rash and stupid works out,” he finished with a ‘what can you do’ shrug.

~

**May, 2014**

Phil had been in a bit of a funk for a few days, some nightmares had kept him up at night, but it felt good to come into the bakery with his computer and his notebook, ready to get back to his writing. It was bright and early when he arrived, so he got his coffee and a scone for breakfast, sitting near the window to eat it so that, when he got ready to write, he’d have a spot in the spring sunlight to help keep away the last tendrils of his sour mood that lingered.

He had just started to re-read what he wrote last to get a feel for where he wanted to go next when he heard his name called in the most unexpected voice. “Phil!” He looked up quickly and was absolutely amazed by the timing as Steve wound his way through the tables with two coffees in hand, a bright smile on his face.

“Wow, you actually came into the City?! Color me surprised,” Phil joked, standing up to meet Steve in a hug, laughing when Steve maneuvered not to spill coffee on him. “What’re you doing in this neighborhood?”

Steve groaned dramatically, sitting at a table near Phil. “Stark. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful he decided he owed me a favor, but he’s too much to handle before caffeine in the morning, so I left Bucky with him and came for some coffee. Although, Bucky texted me he was almost here, so I got his too,” he said, looking out the window. “I bet Stark flagged him down again.” He smiled brightly as he turned back to Phil. “So, what’re you up to? I haven’t seen you in a while, but I read your piece on brownstones. It was pretty great.”

Phil chuckled, eyebrow creeping up in amusement. “Funny you should ask,” he said, but they were interrupted by the bell tinkling and Bucky coming in with Tony Stark following him, gesturing wildly and excitedly. “Ah, you were right,” he intoned and Steve snickered.

“Seriously, Bruce studied Neurology last week, he’s totally ready for it-“

“I’d really prefer a hospital, Stark-“

“Oh please, he’s a genius, we master skills overnight!”

Steve frowned. “Wait, hospital? What’re we talking about?” he asked, offering Bucky his coffee cup wordlessly, hooking a chair with his ankle to tug around until it was beside his, leaving Stark the empty chair across from them. 

Bucky took a grateful sip of his coffee and flopped down in his seat, turning to greet Steve with a small peck. “Thanks, Stevie.” 

Tony held his hands out wide. “Steve, Steve-O, Stevington-“

“Stark, that isn’t even a word-“

“Convince your meaner half that he can totally trust Dr. Banner to do the neurosurgery.” Steve frowned more sternly and Tony sighed. “Phil, you know, Bruce-“

“He’s a physicist, right?” he asked, and Steve gave Stark an alarmed gape.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Look,” he said, holding up his prosthetic left arm. “I’m fine with just an upgrade, not a whole new prosthesis.”

Tony sighed. “But Barnes, think about it. The neurologically enhanced prosthesis would give you _feeling_ in your arm. It would still be robotic, but there would be nano-electronics tied into your neural receptors so that you could feel pressure, texture, and even temperatures possibly. The robotics give you a level of dexterity, but imagine being able to feel pressure and texture? You could have finite dexterity for delicate things. You could pet a kitten with your prosthesis and not worry about hurting it if you go with the neurologically enhanced one. And fine, if you want a neurologist instead of Dr. Banner, I can get a team of neurologists to do the surgery.”

Bucky sighed. “We’ll think about it, okay? Is that enough for you?”

Steve rested his arm along the back of Bucky’s chair, frowning at him. “You okay?” he asked, thumb stroking idly along the back of his neck as he looked closer at Bucky’s face.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, just Stark,” he said, and Phil chuckled at the offended look Tony gave them.

“I feel that way every time I run into him, too,” he confided and Bucky smirked at him.

“So, Phil, what’re you up to? Did Steve tell you we really liked that piece you did on brownstones?” he asked and Phil grinned at his natural reference to them as a unit having an opinion.

“Yep, sure did,” he said with a nod.

Steve hummed as he drank some of his coffee. “You said it was funny I showed up when I asked you what you’re working on. Why’s that?”

Tony tugged Phil’s laptop around, trying to sneak a peek but Phil slapped his hand, pulling it back. “Because I’m finally getting around to writing about me and Clint in Afghanistan,” he said in a soft tone, though by now he was able to smile about it. “And it’s funny because I’m up to writing about all the sappy things you two said about each other when I was planning on writing about you,” he said with a smirk.

Steve flushed to the roots of his hair instantly, eyes wide. Bucky just smirked. “Aw yeah? What kinda sappy stuff did Stevie say about me?” he asked, leaning his head back against Steve’s arm behind his head to look at the side of his head. “Aw, look at how pink he is,” he teased, reaching up to poke at Steve’s neck with his finger so that a white spot appeared. 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Jesus, Rogers, is blushing that bad healthy? I know you’re pale but… daaaaamn.”

Steve sighed, putting a hand over his eyes. “I remember what I told you and at the time it didn’t seem nearly as sappy as it does now,” he complained.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What’d you tell him, Steve?” he asked, and Steve shook his head. “Aww come on.” He smiled as he looked at Steve. “Rogers, I know most every secret you’ve got, why not this one?” he goaded.

He dropped the hand on his face. “Remember well that I was six years old and had a very catholic upbringing.” Steve sighed, turning to look at Bucky with an exaggeratedly annoyed look. “For the first few weeks I knew you, I thought you were an angel God sent to watch out for me because you kept helping me not get beat up so much,” he admitted reluctantly.

Bucky stared at him for a moment before a smile crept across his face. “Aww, that was sappy as hell,” he said and Steve glared. Bucky leaned in and kissed him sweetly. “You realize that’s going in Phil’s book, right?” he teased and Steve rolled his eyes.

Tony finally spoke up. “What the hell, when you were _six_?” he asked, and Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “You two met when you were _six_?!”

“Yep,” Bucky said, smirking as he leaned into Steve some. “Now you see why Steve laughs when you get pissed at me flirting with your lady,” he said with a wink. “I’ve had twenty years to get tired of Stevie and it ain’t happened yet, and Steve knows damn well I’m doing it just to piss you off, not cause I’m actually interested.”

Tony huffed. “What, Pepper’s amazing enough I have plenty of reason to worry about people trying to steal her,” he argued.

Phil rolled his eyes. “And yet you continue to piss her off.” He gestured with his pen. “I’ve warned you about how much too good for you she is. You still never learn.” He gestured at the other two. “No reason to worry about Barnes, though. I could tell you stories about how sappy he can be. Multiple stories.”

Bucky shrugged with a cocky grin. “Not even ashamed of it. I got a tall, gorgeous blond that takes me to all my appointments and gives me coffee for abandoning me with asshole inventors,” he said, toasting Stark with his coffee cup. “If you were smart, you’d marry that woman. I sure as hell would’ve married Steve a looong time ago if we hadn’t had to wait for it to be a possibility,” he said, tugging at the battered, dented, but still intact gold ring he wore on a necklace around his throat. “People stop hitting on you so much when they notice the ‘taken’ symbol.”

Steve smiled at him. “Yeah, and if that fails, he doesn’t know it, but when he passed out drunk one night, I tattooed ‘Property of Steven G. Rogers’ on his left butt cheek,” he joked and Bucky leered lasciviously. “No, that wasn’t a suggestion,” Steve said, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

Phil chuckled, watching when the two started bickering good-naturedly, and thought about the way Steve had described them once. He had once said, when talking about their rash decision to leap into their relationship with both feet and no contingency plan, “Sometimes rash and stupid works out.” As he watched them smiling and laughing as they argued with each other and with Stark, Steve’s arm around Bucky’s shoulders and Bucky’s hand resting on Steve’s thigh, he couldn’t help but agree. What may have been a rash and potentially devastating mistake had ended up making them the happiest people Phil knew. In spite of Bucky’s disability making Steve decide to end his career to take care of him, neither of them seemed to have suffered too much from life changing directions on them. Steve had once said that as long as he had Bucky, everything else was just background noise, and Phil had spent forty years thinking love like that only existed in books and movies. 

Before he met Steve and Bucky, he would’ve never believed a leap of faith like the one they took together would’ve worked out. He would’ve never believed a love like theirs could exist. It was something that seemed unbelievable and yet, when you saw them together, you never doubted the truth of it for a moment. Rash and stupid was definitely worth the risk when it came to those two.

Beyond observing their relationship, Phil knew about rash and stupid being worth it because rash and stupid was the perfect description for the relationship he had with Clint. 

~

_If I had to pinpoint the day that our mild flirting became something more than playful, it would probably be the first day Clint and I had a real conversation with just the two of us talking about ourselves. I had been there for just over a week. He had just got back from a patrol and he found me sitting in the sun on a lawn chair lounger that was set up near the empty field where the soldiers played football from time to time, reading in spite of the dust the wind was kicking up around me._

**August, 2012**

Phil was squinting down at the pages, even his sunglasses not doing a good enough job of blocking the glare, when a shadow fell over him, making it easier to read. “Do me a favor and stay right there for a minute,” he said to whoever it was as he read more eagerly, ready to finish the chapter while he had a chance. He finished the page and turned it to read the half-page left before turning down the corner of the paperback and closing it. “Thanks-“ He stopped short as he looked up and saw a grinning, clearly amused Clint looking down at him. “Oh, hi,” he said, and Clint chuckled. Phil sat up and put his feet on the ground on either side of the lounger, gesturing to the leg rest. “Want to sit? You look tired,” he said, and Clint shrugged, waving a hand dismissively. 

He laid his gun down and shrugged out of his vest, sitting not sideways, but fully facing Phil, resting his feet on either side as well. “I’m exhausted,” he admitted, unstrapping his helmet and putting it on the ground beside his other things. “We got a call at 0800 this morning and just an hour ago we finally loaded up to head back. _Five_ hours holding a position.”

Phil put his book in his lap, looking at him Clint, whose face was dusty and gritty, leaving the lines from his squinting against the sun streaked in grime on his tanned face. “You know, I don’t even know what you do,” he admitted. “I’m so caught up in looking for my story and, now that I’ve got one, working on my story. I kinda haven’t even bothered asking what it is you guys do,” he said with a sheepish smile.

Clint’s eyes showed mischief and his lips quirked a little before he shrugged. “Ah, hell, with that smile you could tell me you forgot my first name and I’d forgive you for it,” he said in a flirty tone that made Phil chuckle.

“I know your first name, Clint,” he said, and Clint’s eyes darkened for a moment.

“I like it when you say my first name,” he admitted in a slightly hoarse voice. He quickly coughed and reached over to his vest to grab his water to take a drink, and Phil almost believed thirst was the reason his voice had dropped. Clint caught him watching the way he licked stray droplets from his lips and gave him a knowing glance. 

Phil just smiled back with a bland expression he had perfected long ago. “So, what is it you do since we’re on the subject?” he asked.

Clint’s smile turned more genuine than flirty. “I’m the CO of the base snipers. Bishop and Barnes are in my patrol. There isn’t much need for trained snipers on a base this relatively safe, so while there are others with sniper training, we’re the only actual designated ‘snipers’.”

Phil blinked and raised an eyebrow. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that,” he said levelly. “So when you said ‘holding a position’, you didn’t mean waiting in an area, did you?” he asked, and Clint shook his head, wincing as he rubbed at his neck.

“I wish,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not the longest I ever held a shot, not by far, but I rarely need to do it out here.” He shook his head. “This time it wasn’t even Taliban, it was just some farmers got into a dispute over grazing or some shit and one started shooting up the other guy’s farm. The convoy that reported they got fired on just took a few stray bullets to a Humvee on accident, so by the time we got there, they’d stopped to help the guy getting shot at get his kids to safety and the other guy was in a fuckin’ shed hiding out but still taking pot shots every once in a while, but when he spotted us taking up position, he hunkered down and stayed there all damn day, and until the threat’s neutralized, you stay in position as long as you have the shot,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing we could do but wait him out. Five hours later he flew a white flag and the original ones on the scene grabbed his ass and handed him over to the Afghan authorities.” 

Phil looked at Clint’s face, trying to imagine how hard it had to be to stay in one position for _five hours_ , holding for a shot. “I don’t know how you do it,” he finally said in an openly impressed tone. “I mean I remember stakeouts that took that long, but we could still talk and at least shift in our seats or, if I was in the van, get up and stretch every once in a while.”

Clint frowned somewhat adorably. “Stake outs? You’re a writer,” he said, and Phil smiled, realizing only Steve had heard his story.

Phil nodded. “I am. Now,” he confirmed. “But when I was your age, I was CIA,” he said and Clint gaped.

“Holy shit, you had us all fooled!” He laughed loudly. “You play a convincing civi,” he confided and Phil smirked.

“Hey, I’ve been a writer for a long time, I learned how to fake it,” he said. He gestured around them. “But really, you think they’d let any writer have this kind of clearance? My boss is ex-military, he pulled some strings and got them to approve me based on letters of recommendation from my former contacts.”

Clint leaned in some. “So wait, do any of the others know?” he asked and Phil nodded.

“Yeah, Steve and the guy who drove us in, Sam.” He shook his head. “It’s not a secret or anything. It just didn’t come up. It only came up with them because technically I’m under orders to wear a flak vest at all times and it was on the seat when I climbed in the Humvee. Steve turned around to help me get it on and I’d already strapped up, so he realized I wasn’t a normal civilian.”

Clint looked at him long and hard, eyes searching Phil’s face for a while before shaking his head with an amused chuckle. “You’re probably the most interesting person I’ve ever met, Phil Coulson, and I have barely scraped the surface, haven’t I?” he asked in a soft, contemplative tone. 

The way his eyes lingered on Phil’s, showing some spark, some sort of heat and desire that he had zeroed in on Phil, made Phil’s insides twist and his blood pump just a little harder at the prospect of what all that gaze held. He couldn’t hope to keep his voice from dropping in tone when he spoke again. “What would you like to know?” 

Clint’s smile was small and private, but his gaze was heated. He looked an amusing mix of intrigued and bashful as he answered in a lighter, almost breathless voice.

“Everything.”

~

Phil felt like he had earned the donuts he’d bought at the PX. 

He angrily shoved another powdered donut in his mouth, not even caring if his flak vest got white speckles on it as he sat on the stairs outside some administrative building, the first shade he’d found. He could only imagine what kind of picture he painted, a forty-three year old man with thinning hair, a crisp pale blue shirt and black slacks, shiny dress shoes, a navy tie, aviators, and a flak vest on top of it all, sitting and aggressively shoving powdered donuts in his mouth while grumbling to himself. He put down his sugary snack for a moment and rolled his sleeves up his forearms, frustrated by how much hotter it felt with the vest on.

Of course, he was in the middle of shoving a whole powdered donut in his mouth when Clint Barton came walking around the corner. Phil cursed when Clint spotted him. “Hey Coulson!” he called, heading his way.

He was well aware he had to look ridiculous with a whole donut puffing out his cheeks so he quickly chewed and swallowed before Clint got any closer, even if it hurt a little bit to swallow that much. He glanced at his fingers and licked his fingertips quickly to free them of powdered sugar as he stood up. When he looked up, he saw Clint’s eyes were slightly wide as he stared at him, and he raised an eyebrow, but Clint just looked at his hand, ears turning slightly red when Phil licked his thumb. Phil realized what Clint was watching and hoped the heat had already turned his face red so that his flush didn’t show. “Hey,” he said, clearing his throat as he started to wave, then awkwardly noticed it was the hand that still held the package of donuts. He winced and lowered his hand behind his back some.

Clint blinked to clear his face of the dazed expression and snickered. “What’d those donuts do to piss you off that bad?” he asked, and Phil groaned as he realized Clint had seen just how grumpily he’d been eating. 

“What’s with the flak vest?” Clint asked, poking at the edge of it and making a face. “It’s eighty-five today.”

Phil sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Oh trust me, I know,” he said, tugging on the knot of his tie some, though the tie was beneath his vest so it didn’t help too much. Phil caught Clint’s eyes on his throat, his stomach squirming some at the way Clint’s teeth pressed against his bottom lip, like he wanted to bite it but couldn’t let anybody see. Clint’s gaze slid up from his throat to his face, only for his blue eyes to widen slightly when he realized Phil was watching him through the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. Clint gave him a sheepish smile and Phil chuckled. The whole moment had been just that, a moment, so Phil spoke up quickly to cover it. “Remember how I said technically I’m under orders to wear it everywhere? Today a certain colonel drove past on his way to oversee something and I happened to be walking past at the same time,” he said, rolling his eyes. He waved the half-empty packet of donuts. “I’m making up for all the weight I’m losing in sweat with good, old fashioned empty calories.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, this is the safest base I’ve ever been on. It’s crazy they want you to wear that thing in the safe zone,” he said, and Phil shrugged.

“I tried arguing that, but there was a threat of an empty seat on the next passenger jet leaving the area. I figured ‘what the hell’ and put it on.”

Clint smirked. “You could use some empty calories,” he said, gesturing to Phil’s exposed forearms. “Seems like somebody’s hiding muscles under those suits. Gotta fatten up some or you’ll put us to shame.” He looked up, meeting Phil’s eyes. “Some of us work hard for the muscle we’ve got, don’t go flashing forearms like that around boys who will feel inadequate,” he teased, reaching out to poke playfully at Phil’s solid forearms. “For somebody who claims he’s old all the time, you sure are firm in a lot of places.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And just how would you know?” he asked playfully. 

Clint’s eyes practically flickered with flames, the heat in his gaze was so palpable. “Can’t be a sniper without amazing sight. I don’t miss much,” he murmured in a low voice, fingers still trailing over Phil’s forearm absently, rough fingertips tickling the dark hairs on Phil’s exposed skin.

Phil licked his lips, swallowing a little harder than he meant to as he held Clint’s gaze through the tinting of his sunglasses. “How hard have you been looking, huh?” he asked with a mischievous lilt to his voice.

Clint’s smile grew wider, mirth mixing with the heat in his stare. “Oh, some things just happen to catch my attention and I can’t help but notice.”

Phil held his gaze for quite a while, both of them hesitant to look away, before he finally smirked in amusement. “You do realize you’re kinda fondling my wrist, right?” he asked, and Clint jerked out of his daze, looking down to see he was, in fact, holding Phil’s wrist gently and stroking his thumb along the delicate bones near his hand.

Clint pulled his hand away, ears slightly pink as he ducked his head. “Uh- I uh-“ He swallowed and looked up with a sheepish smile. “I think I have a meeting. So I should. Go. To the meeting.” He gestured to the way he was heading before he stopped to talk to Phil. “I should go do that. Meeting. Right.” He took a breath and stepped away some. “See you later, Phil,” he said in a rush, then turned and started walking. He didn’t hurry, there was no rush to his steps, and he looked as casual as ever, but Phil couldn’t help laughing all the same as he decided to head to his room and try to do a little writing.

~

**June, 2014**

Phil woke up to a clatter and jumped so hard he nearly fell off the couch. He rolled off onto the floor, groaning when he landed on his hands and knees, and looked around for the sound. He jerked to look at the window, then around the living room, and finally his eyes landed on Arrow, who was walking along the top of the bookshelf. He looked down on the floor below the bookshelf and sighed, groaning when he saw the source of the noise.

Phil stood up and stretched, grunting softly, before stopping and leaning down to pick up the item that had toppled off the top of the shelf. “Aww, Arrow. You know loud noises scare me way too bad,” he said, reaching up to rub at the cat’s ears as he turned the wooden figure of a camel over in his hand. He smiled softly, rubbing his thumb over the intricately carved face of the camel. He reached up and sat it back on the shelf and grabbed Arrow, stepping back with Arrow in his arms, though his gaze stayed on the camel for a moment, a strange calm settling over the living room as he got lost in the memory. 

Phil knew that if he closed his eyes, he would be able to smell the spices and feel the wind on his face as if it were yesterday. He glanced over at his laptop and made his way to the couch, putting Arrow beside him as he opened his laptop, entered his password, and found the document already waiting on him, the cursor blinking against the white page.

_After pretty much mutually acknowledging but choosing to ignore that there was something there, Clint and I began to get to know each other better. We knew that nothing could happen, but the same way I was drawn to Clint, the same way I was intrigued by him and wanted to know more about him, he had this curiosity that seemed to be too powerful to ignore. He wanted to know me. He wanted to learn who I was. He didn’t ask me endless questions, he didn’t try and figure out what box to stick me in or what traits to tick off a list; Clint wanted to get to know the real Phil Coulson._

_I just wanted to be around him, so even if I knew that being around him with the attraction I had for him was like letting a pyromaniac get close to a bonfire, I wanted to spend time with Clint without the others around to interrupt my adventures into the world as seen by Clint Barton. He looked at things in a way that made me feel like I’d been wearing a blindfold half of my life. He made observations the average person would miss, he liked to make up stories about everything no matter how outlandish, and he seemed to be able to enjoy every day life in a way that one would never expect from someone who regularly saw the worst humanity had to offer._

_One day in particular, at the end of my third week in Afghanistan, Clint gave me a gift I will always cherish. It just wasn’t necessarily the trinket he bought me that day that I’m talking about._

~

**August, 2012**

Phil had planned on trying to catch Steve when he got done with his duties early, since it was a rare day where most of the people he knew had only half-days to work, but he got intercepted by Clint, who caught up to him at the mess at lunch. “Hey, Phil!” he called, and Phil stopped as Clint jogged up to him. 

Phil smiled when he met Clint’s eyes. He usually couldn’t help smiling when Clint’s blue eyes were bright and showed happiness. “Hey, Clint. Done for the day?” he asked, and Clint nodded.

“Yep! And I was thinking,” he started, playfully narrowing his eyes at Phil. “You doin’ anything for the rest of the afternoon? You’re not working on our God given afternoon of rest, are you?” he drawled and Phil chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“I was hoping I could catch up with Steve,” he started, and Clint waved a hand.

“Say no more,” he said, then grinned. “Steve’s having a well-deserved afternoon volleyball game on the PJs team with his equally un-busy husband in his cheering section. They’re both gonna be there all afternoon.”

Phil hummed in mock speculation. “Well. My plans are shot. What can you offer me as an alternative?” he asked, purposefully adding a flirty twist to his words.

Clint smirked and held his hands out wide. “You’re coming shopping with me,” he said, and Phil actually dropped his act for a moment.

“Shopping? Really?” he asked, and Clint nodded. “Your idea of a fun afternoon is shopping… on a military base.”

Clint grinned knowingly. “Clearly you haven’t been to the bazaar at the north end of the base,” he said conspiratorially, and Phil raised an eyebrow.

“No, can’t say I have. Why?” he asked, and Clint threw an arm around Phil’s shoulders and steered him towards the door without another word.

He sighed dramatically. “Oh Phil, you have no idea how fun this’ll be,” he said brightly. 

~

The bazaar was small, nothing like a real, city-center bazaar, but for all Phil could tell, there was nothing left out of the options. There were merchants with just about everything you could imagine for sale, from bootleg CDs to intricately designed gold and silver jewelry. There were scarves and rugs everywhere, boxes with intricately carved patterns, silver tea sets, hairbrushes encrusted with jewels, shirts and dresses, hats and sunglasses, odds and ends that Phil couldn’t identify, and little bags of dried fruits and various other treats everywhere he looked.

The first thing Clint did was lead the way to one of the very last merchants, who greeted him with spread arms. “Ah, Barton!” the man said in heavily accented English. “My best customer!”

Clint grinned and laughed. “You know it, Adeeb.”

“Your usual, yes?” Adeeb asked, and Clint nodded.

“But twice as much,” he said, and then looked over at Phil. “Phil, this is Adeeb, and Adeeb comes every week and sells the best dried fruit and sugar roasted nut mixtures ever. I swear this stuff is like crack,” he said with a gesture. Phil looked at the containers of dried fruits and berries and some with nuts and watched as Adeeb scooped up certain amounts from certain containers and put it into a little plastic bag. 

“Here you are, my friend,” Adeeb said, passing Clint the first bag, and then gathering up a second bag to hand to Phil. 

Clint smiled as he paid Adeeb. “Thanks, man, see you next week!” he said, and Adeeb shook Clint’s hand and then Phil’s before Clint led the way on down the line. 

Phil picked at the things in the bag and found what he felt was probably an apricot. He ate it, and hummed in surprise. It was an odd mixture of spicy and sweet. “Wow, what is this?” he asked, and Clint grinned as he popped a nut into his mouth.

“I don’t even know, Phil, but it makes me wish I could eat nothing else for the rest of my life,” he declared, moaning dramatically as he ate a berry. “Funny part is, I don’t even like dried fruit normally. Something about Adeeb’s recipe, though.” Clint gestured to their left. “Oh, here. Look at these boxes, they’re so cool,” he said, and Phil smiled at Clint’s excitement as he followed him to a stall full of small, stationary sized wooden boxes with the most beautiful carvings in the lids. 

Clint’s excitement about the whole trip seemed a little extreme for a man who had spent the past few months coming to shop from mostly the same selections of items every week… until Phil realized that Clint’s excitement wasn’t about the bazaar, but about showing _Phil_ around to see all the incredible and interesting items for sale. Phil couldn’t help to swell of warmth in his belly after he realized what Clint was doing. He knew it was ridiculous, the game of flirting around he and Clint kept playing, but as Clint showed him various items and told him stories about various merchants that Phil was pretty sure were all made up, seeming genuinely thrilled just to be spending all afternoon with Phil, he started to worry that maybe it wasn’t just flirting anymore.

This only became more evident as the trip came to a close. It was getting later in the afternoon when Phil looked up from examining a silver tea service, intending to show the design to Clint, only to notice Clint had disappeared. He hummed curiously, but went back to looking at the silver things laid out around on the table. There was everything from hand mirrors to tea services to earrings. He was distracted from his browsing when Clint finally came back. “Hey, where’d you go?” he asked curiously, glancing up at Clint, only to pause when Clint gave him a small, almost shy smile. “Everything okay?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah,” he said almost too loudly before smiling brightly. “See anything good?” he asked, and Phil raised an eyebrow to show he didn’t believe him for a minute, but didn’t call him out on his distraction ploy.

“Not really, wanna keep going?” he asked, and Clint nodded and tugged him away to take him and show him some cool rugs.

After the walk back was shared in a companionable chatter about all the things they had seen and interesting things they almost bought, Phil was surprised when, as they got to his building just after sunset, Clint seemed to get quiet and almost nervous. 

“Clint, are you okay?” he asked, turning back to look at Clint instead of climbing the stairs at his building. 

Clint nodded. “Yeah, I just…” He hesitated and ducked his head before bringing the hand that wasn’t holding his gun strap from behind him and holding something out to Phil. “This is for you,” he said softly, looking up at Phil as he held out his hand. 

Phil looked down and felt a small flutter as he took the small wood carving of a camel. He looked at the intricate details and smiled. “This is good,” he said, then glanced up at Clint. “Why a camel, though?” he asked softly.

Clint shrugged, biting his lip. “Camels are really interesting animals. They’re smart and strong and kinda sassy,” he added with a small grin before his smile evened out to something warmer. “It just caught my eye and it kinda made me think about you,” he finished softly. There was something in Clint’s eyes, some warmth and vulnerability that was only made more noticeable by the way the shadows of the falling night did nothing to hide the hope Clint was failing miserably at masking. 

Phil realized that the emotion he saw in Clint’s eyes was affection, and his chest tightened at the discovery. He knew Clint found him attractive. He knew Clint liked flirting. But affection was something else entirely. Something more. Something that Phil was rapidly discovering he returned. “Thank you,” Phil said softly when he finally spoke. He looked down at the trinket and grinned. “I love the way you talk about camels like you’re a nature expert or something,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

It clearly worked when Clint grinned playfully. “Hey, I know enough! We had a pair of them in the circus.”

Phil frowned, looking up at him. “Circus? Are you telling me you worked in a _circus_ before you joined the Army?” he asked.

Clint smirked. “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “When I was little, me and my brother ran away from the orphanage in Iowa and joined a circus. I grew up traveling around and let me tell you, those camels could get pretty moody if they didn’t want to travel,” he said, and Phil gave him a flat look.

“Now you’re just fucking with me,” he said, and Clint immediately leered at him. 

“Oh I wish,” he flirted seamlessly and Phil chuckled, but smirked. Two could play that game.

“You and me both, Barton,” he said in a mock-sultry tone.

Clint’s smile slipped some though, and Phil snickered at Clint’s mouth opening and closing as he floundered for something to say before finally blurting out, “I- I should probably go.”

“Clint, I’m sorry, you know I’m just playing around with you-“

“No, it’s okay,” Clint said quickly, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um, I had fun today. With you,” he said with a sheepish grin.

With a smirk, Phil leaned against the metal railing to the stairs behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. “You realize you totally just made this sound like a date, right?” he joked and Clint smirked, winking.

“Well in that case, let me at least throw in some flattery,” he drawled playfully, then cleared his throat and adopted a mock-serious expression. “Phil, you’re interesting, and you’re so different, and you’re gorgeous, and-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Phil interrupted, laughing as he spoke, which made Clint smile smugly, clearly happy that he could make Phil’s mask crack. “Seriously though, today was really fun. Thank you, Clint,” he finished in a softer, more genuine tone.

Clint gave him an affectionate smile and nodded. “Goodnight, Phil,” he said softly and Phil waved to him as he stepped back and turned to start walking away.

“Goodnight,” he said at his retreating back. Phil sighed and looked down at the little wooden camel, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling like an idiot over something to small.

When he got back to his room, he put the camel on the small bedside table next to his clock and, that night, as he lay in bed, Phil couldn’t help but smile when he caught sight of it and a fresh wave of butterflies erupted in his stomach. He immediately felt foolish. He was a forty-three year old man in a war zone, not a teenager in high school. He rolled onto his other side and groaned, whispering into the darkness, “This is ridiculous.”

~

**June, 2014**

Phil smiled at Pepper as she flopped down beside him after popping in the DVD. “Tony hates this movie,” she said, leaning into Phil’s side. “Thank God for Boyfriend-Free movie night,” she said with a dramatic sigh that made Phil laugh and nudge her back.

“You know, one of these days that’s gonna change to ‘husband free’ movie night,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“Tony Stark will marry me the day I sneak the marriage paperwork into some of the stuff he doesn’t even glance at before signing,” she said and Phil shook his head, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

“No, if he thought you wanted to get married, he’d buy you a jewelry store the next day,” he said confidently and she laughed, but smiled ahead fondly.

She hummed, laying her head on Phil’s shoulder as the movie started. When the tornado sirens sounded, Pepper cursed and scrambled for the remote. “Oh shit, Phil, I’m sorry! I forgot tornado sirens are like attack sirens.”

Phil shook his head, waving a hand. “It’s okay,” he said. She gave him a skeptical look and he laughed. “No really.”

She bit her lip. “I just figured after all this talking about Afghanistan lately since you started writing, it would remind you,” she said softly.

Phil smiled sadly, but shook his head. “Actually, it makes me think of Clint,” he admitted, and Pepper’s eyes widened in sympathy. He shook his head. “No, not in a bad way.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What other way is there for attack sirens to remind you of Afghanistan than bad?”

Phil groaned. “You’re not gonna leave me along until I say it, are you?” he asked and she gave him a pointed look. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re relentless,” he grumbled, then chuckled, blushing slightly. “Of anything, I know you’d think reminding me of IDF sirens would remind me of bad memories, but it doesn’t, because the first IDF siren I heard was right before the first time Clint and I had sex, and we were in bed together when the last one went off,” he said, and Pepper smiled sadly.

“You know, I’m glad you have so many good memories, not just the terrible ones,” she said, and Phil shrugged.

“I wouldn’t give up my memories of Afghanistan for all the good it would do me,” he said and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it in understanding. “So many nightmares, so many months pretty fucked up from what happened, and I still wouldn’t undo that for the world.” He sighed and bumped his head against her shoulder. “No matter what happened, I met the man I’m positive will always be the love of my life. It was worth it,” he mumbled and Pepper nodded.

“Of course it was.”

~

When Phil got home, he immediately pulled out his laptop and opened his document, thinking about his and Pepper’s conversation earlier that night.

_One thing that I was told the first day I arrived at the base was that, in the event of a mortar or rocket attack, there would be an IDF alarm and I was to immediately get to the nearest bunker or drop to the ground in the safest place nearby and wait two minutes after the last explosion before moving to the nearest bunker to wait for the all clear. Where I was at, there weren’t common attacks, not like some of the FOBs in more dangerous places. In fact, in the entire nine weeks I was there, there was one siren test – they announce over the loudspeakers before the siren goes off that it’s just a drill and no action is to be taken – and two actual alerts._

_The first time I heard that IDF alarm go off and a robotic voice repeating ‘Rocket. Attack. Rocket. Attack.’ over and over, it surprised me, not because I wasn’t prepared, but because nobody else seemed all that bothered by it._

~

**August, 2012**

Phil was just laughing at something Kate said when, over the loud din of the mess – and it was very loud in there – a loud siren started wailing. Phil jumped in surprise, and looked around to see everybody else stop talking and look around. When the siren – which sounded like an air raid siren – was overlaid by a robotic voice announcing a ‘rocket attack’, Phil’s heart rate climbed sharply. He cursed and stood up, and then hesitated, raising an eyebrow when the others all finished off last bites and sips of their drinks before following suit.

Kate saw his confusion and rolled her eyes. “Relax, Coulson,” she said, but Phil’s confusion only deepened when Bucky and Clint just got into a shoving and laughing match as they all headed over to the interior wall, away from the windows just like Phil had been told, and the others simply sat on the floor. Phil followed suit and was surprised to see pretty much everybody else doing the same. A few people laid face down like he’d been told, but the only ones who seemed to really be worried were some of the newest ones who had shipped in a few days before. 

Bucky saw him looking around and waved a hand. “Eight times out of ten, it’s just a bird set off the alarm system, and the ninth is a rocket so badly aimed it landed seven hundred yards west of the border wall. This isn’t Kandahar,” he said, and Phil chuckled, shaking his head.

“You’re all crazy,” he said and Clint raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

Phil shot him a look. “How do you know every time isn’t number ten?” he asked simply.

Clint shrugged. “Since my first deployment here in 2009, the whole time – not just times I’ve been here – only five people have been killed by rockets or mortars. I’ll stick to putting my worries on IEDs and car bombs when I’m out on calls,” he replied with a cringe. “That’s where the real danger lies.”

After the required two minutes, most everybody got up and went back to their tables. It wasn’t until the all clear sounded that Phil suddenly remembered what Phillips had said to him the first day. He slapped at his chest, then cursed. “Shit.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

Phil groaned. “Damn it. Even money says Phillips is gonna send somebody to make sure I didn’t freak out over the IDF call, and I’m not wearing that damn vest.” He stood up, balling up the bag of chips he’d been eating and grabbing his water. “I better get back to my room and put it on, I’ll meet up with you guys outside in about twenty as long as I don’t get busted.”

Clint snorted and shook his head. “They’re so worried about that vest,” he said, then put his fork down. “Hang on, I’ll walk you back,” he said, and Bucky nodded.

“Good idea. People get a little worked up after an IDF alarm, there’s a lot more foot traffic and regular traffic to deal with. Last thing you want is to get ran over,” he said, nodding to Clint. “He’ll show you some shortcuts,” he said, and Phil shrugged.

“Fine with me,” he said, and Clint winked, leering playfully.

“Of course you don’t mind, Boss Man, you just love spending time with me,” he said, and the others all laughed with Phil at Clint’s dramatic face.

When they got outside, it turned out Bucky didn’t lie, there did seem to be more people out and about, rushing around to check on things, he guessed. Clint tapped his side and nodded left. “Follow me,” he said, and Phil fell into step slightly behind him to keep out of way of oncoming pedestrians. Clint turned them down a less-traveled path between a fence and a few buildings. “So,” he started, slowing down some. “First IDF siren. You didn’t freak out,” he observed, and Phil shrugged.

“I didn’t get clearance because I got all unhinged at the first sign of something going wrong,” he said simply.

Clint just chuckled, shaking his head. “Phil, you are something else,” he said, smiling over at him, his blue eyes roving Phil’s face as if just taking him in once more. “You’re so neutral when you try to be,” he said. “It’s fascinating. I never knew anybody who could keep such a cool outer demeanor no matter what like you.”

Phil chuckled and gave Clint a sheepish smile. “To be honest, I had a minor heart attack at first,” he admitted and Clint laughed loudly.

“I’d imagine it’s scary,” he allowed, giving Phil a playful smile. “It’s a little unnerving, I’ll give you that. Even for us, we all play it cool, because we really are used to false alarms, but there’s that tiny niggle in the back of your mind saying ‘what if it’s not this time?’ and even if you’re cool, your pulse still picks up a little.”

Clint took a left and Phil followed him. “You’d all be insane if you weren’t worried deep down. Even a bad aim hits the target eventually,” he said and Clint hummed an affirmation.

“Mortars are what’re scary,” he said after a moment. “I was in Iraq in ’06 and we got a lot of mortars where I was. It wasn’t a big base like this, it was a smaller FOB,” he explained. “They have to get a lot closer to the base to use mortars, so around here that’s very unlikely to happen, but there we got hit by mortars, not rockets.” He shook his head, a fearful glint in his eyes as he looked at Phil with the most serious expression Phil had ever seen on Clint Barton’s’ face. “That’s no joke. Mortars are way more accurate, and that’s deadly. With the rockets, half the time they’re duds, and even when they’re not, it’s like those fireworks on the stick,” he said. “You light a fuse, point it in a general direction, and hope it comes close to where you’re aiming. Meaning usually they miss and landed on an empty field somewhere.” He cringed. “But mortars. That’s another story.”

Phil put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. He didn’t say anything, but Clint gave him a grateful smile either way. As Clint took another shortcut, Phil couldn’t help but ask, “How do you know so much about sneaking around?” he asked, and Clint snickered.

“When I was first here, I wasn’t in charge of my own group, so I didn’t feel so responsible that I skipped out of secret booze stash poker games,” he said with a chuckle. “You get good at sneaking around drunk and hiding from anybody who would bust your ass.” He winced. “And good for avoiding ex-boyfriends,” he said, and Phil raised an eyebrow.

“I suspect there’s a story there,” he said, and Clint scoffed.

“That particular one requires the cover of darkness and a bucket of ice cream,” he said, and Phil gave him a doubtful look. Clint shook his head, smiling bitterly. “Put it this way, same tour as the drunken poker nights I found out the first person I ever loved when I was twenty-two joined the air force not long after we broke up because he was cheating on me when I was at basic training and AIT because ‘you weren’t there, so what else was I gonna do?’, and somehow we both were deployed here at the same time eight years later,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “And that, Phil, is my tragic heartbreak story of my youth,” he finished with a flourish.

Phil scoffed. “You say this like you’re not still annoyingly young,” he said, giving Clint a playful glare. “When I was your age, I still had a full head of thick hair with no grays.”

Clint smirked. “I like the grays,” he said, winking at Phil. “Makes you look all mature and badass and like a _man_ when I’m surrounded day in and day out by a lot of boys.”

Phil chuckled, shaking his head. “Once again, proving you’ve got some screws loose, Barton.”

They turned a corner and started along the side of the road towards his building. Clint just smiled a more genuine and less over-the-top smile and looked down at the path as they walked. “But really, Phil, you talk like I’m one of the kids that’re running around out here and you’re an old man,” he said, glancing up to meet his eyes. “You’re just ten years older than me.”

“Yes,” Phil said firmly. “Meaning when I was old enough to vote, you were just old enough to read on your own without somebody helping you,” he pointed out. “I had probably already killed a man by the time your voice was changing, Clint,” he added and Clint shot him a surprised look. Phil raised an eyebrow. “What? I told you I used to be CIA.”

“Yeah, I expected an analyst or something!” Clint said, laughing in surprise. “Shit, were you an actual fucking _spy_?” he asked excitedly and Phil chuckled, shaking his head.

“Sadly, no. I was part of an interdepartmental unit with the DEA and worked on international drug trafficking cases.” He shook his head. “Not a spy, just ended up going after big named drug runners and did some interviews with the heads of cartels and such.”

Clint looked at him suddenly, his eyes wide. “You can totally use a gun, can’t you?” he asked, and Phil raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think they’d have let me into the field if I wasn’t a good enough shot to protect myself?” he asked, and Clint groaned dramatically and inappropriately.

“Oh man, Phil, as a man with a career in guns, I have to admit that the mental image of you firing a weapon is probably my new favorite mental image,” he said in a serious tone. “Not even joking,” he said, though Phil could see the laughter in Clint’s eyes.

Phil just grinned. “Oh please-“

“Shit!” Clint grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him into a small gap between two buildings as he slipped into the shadows without warning. Phil stumbled some, catching himself with his hands on Clint’s chest where they were pressed tightly together. The buildings were so close that they barely fit in there chest to chest and the sun being anywhere but directly overhead meant they were in the shadows. Phil started to ask what Clint meant, but kept quiet just in time to see that, right across the street, Phillips himself was coming down the steps from Phil’s building, no doubt having went there looking for him. 

“Wow, I didn’t even see that,” Phil said softly. He watched as Phillips stopped to talk to someone, probably asking where he might find Phil. Phil was distracted from watching Phillips, however, when Clint shifted and without warning, his fingers slid across skin, startling a soft intake of breath and a jolt out of Phil. Clint yanking him by the back of his shirt had tugged it from where it was tucked into his pants and, when they shifted, Clint’s hand had slipped up under his shirt by accident.

He looked up at Clint suddenly, cheeks pink over the reaction, but instead of teasing, Clint’s eyes had darkened some. Phil’s fingers twitched against Clint’s chest when Clint’s eyes stayed locked with his after a moment. Without warning, Clint slid his hand fully under Phil’s shirt and Phil jerked ever so slightly, biting at his bottom lip to keep from making a sound. Clint’s eyes never shifted from his as he slid his hand around Phil’s side under his shirt in moves so slow that his wide, warm palm caught on Phil’s sweat-damp skin some. Clint’s audibly sharper breaths were the only noise between them until Clint’s thumbnail scraped ever so gently against Phil’s sensitive lower ribs and he couldn’t help a soft moan that his body decided to pair with a full body shudder. 

Clint’s breath hitched and he carefully slid his hand higher, fingertips trailing gently over the same skin. Phil’s bottom lip slipped from between his teeth when Clint’s rough palm sliding over his ribs sent a rush of arousal down his spine. “Clint,” he breathed roughly and Clint’s pupils dilated minutely and he tugged Phil closer to him.

“Shit, Phil,” Clint groaned, his breath brushing Phil’s lips from how close they were. He licked his lips, glancing down at Phil’s mouth. Phil’s hands twitched against his chest before Phil slid his hands from Clint’s chest to his upper arms, leaning in to rest his forehead against Clint’s. “God, the things you do to me,” Clint whispered in a strained voice, and that was it.

Phil wasn’t sure who moved first, but almost the split second the last syllable left Clint’s lips, Phil’s mouth met Clint’s in a firm, eager kiss. “Clint,” he breathed against his lips, shifting to fit their mouths together better, moaning softly when Clint’s other hand slid to hold the back of his head, keeping Phil pressed against him from hips to mouth. Phil clutched at Clint’s shoulders, groaning at the feel of Clint’s arms under the thick canvas of his jacket. Clint shoved Phil back against the wall behind him, using the slight inches of room they had to duck his head and kiss down Phil’s throat until he reached his collar. “Shit, shit, Clint, wait,” he whispered and Clint pulled away, breath ragged slightly. Phil glanced to the left, looking out at the road. “Somebody could see,” he said, and Clint glanced up, but nodded, reluctantly pulling the hand he’d had under Phil’s shirt back out. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, but Phil shook his head, laughing hoarsely.

“God, don’t apologize,” he said, letting his head thump back against the building behind him as he reached around to tuck his shirt back in. “Fuck,” he breathed, then looked out to see if the coast was clear. He saw that Phillips was gone, and as he risked poking his head out, he didn’t see him in either direction. “Hey,” Phil said, biting his lip as he looked back at Clint. “This is going to be a really bad idea,” he started, and Clint smirked.

“All the best ideas usually aren’t good ones,” he said, eyes darkening.

Phil grinned. “Think the others will be suspicious if we’re late showing up to hang out tonight?” he asked, and Clint’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Uh… I wasn’t suspecting that,” he admitted, and Phil laughed, running a hand over his face.

“I can’t believe I’m thinking this,” he said honestly. “But I’d say nobody will expect me back in my room for at least the next forty-five minutes after I wasn’t there just now…” He didn’t finish his thoughts, but the way Clint’s eyes darkened said he didn’t miss his implication at all.

“Shit, Phil-“

Phil leaned in and kissed him, hard and fast, then pulled away, hands on Clint’s neck. “If it’s too much of a risk, I understand fully, I really do,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he pulled away. “I won’t blame you if you don’t follow me in a few minutes,” he said, and without another word, he ducked out of their hiding place and looked around before jogging across the road to his building. 

Phil didn’t glance back as he headed up the stairs and into the building, but he could feel Clint’s eyes on his back the whole way. When Phil got to his room, he left the door opened a few inches, just in case Clint did follow him. He paced back and forth a little, laughing a bit hysterically at himself. “Fuck, what am I doing?” he whispered, running his hands over his face. He pulled his tie off and undid the top buttons of his shirt, tossing it aside. “God, I’m an idiot,” he mumbled, looking around his tiny room aimlessly. After a few minutes, he shook his head, because of course Clint wasn’t that stupid. Of course he wouldn’t just jump at the risk like that. He walked to his small trunk where he kept his clothes and his valuables and he took out his laptop and laid it on the desk. He opened it and hit the power button, but before he could sit down, there was a soft knock at his door and his breath seized in his chest for a moment. He turned quickly, and sure enough, he could see a boot just outside the crack in the door. 

_Well_ , he thought to himself, _Maybe he is that crazy._

Phil crossed to the door and opened it just far enough for Clint to duck in, then pulled it shut, flipping the lock with unsteady fingers. When he turned, Clint didn’t hesitate to kiss him, pressing him back against the door momentarily before tugging him away from it, hands scrabbling at the buttons of Phil’s shirt. Phil moaned and stumbled some when he walked back towards the bed. He reached down, knocking Clint’s hands out of the way as he started working on the last button of his shirt. Clint took the hint and undid the buttons on his own jacket, breaking the kiss long enough for them both to get out of their shirts. When they were both topless, Phil looked up. “God,” he groaned, looking at Clint topless. “Seriously? How are you real?” he grumbled and Clint laughed, his eyes full of mischief, pulling Phil in by his hips, kissing down the side of Phil’s throat.

“You sure as hell don’t look like an ‘old’ writer,” he teased, voice hoarse right beside Phil’s ear, eliciting a full body shiver. Phil grabbed at Clint’s belt, grunting.

“Shut up and take your pants off,” he breathed and Clint chuckled, but smirked.

“Yes, Sir,” he said, moving back towards the narrow bed as he undid his belt and then sat down on the edge to lean over and get his boots off. Phil had less trouble stepping out of his shoes and pants, and by the time Clint had his boots off, Phil shoved him back on the bed, kissing at his chest as he helped Clint get his pants off. Once they were off, he moved up to kiss Clint and Clint caught his waist and flipped Phil over, pinning him to the bed. Clint groaned against Phil’s lips as he rocked their hips together, grinding down against Phil in a slow, tantalizing motion. 

Phil groaned when Clint moved to kiss down his throat, scrape his teeth across Phil’s collar bone, and then continue trailing wet, sucking kisses down his chest, thumbs running circles on his waist. “God, Clint,” he breathed, arching into Clint’s touch. He sank his hand into Clint’s hair, the other hand wrapped around his thick, gorgeous arm.

Clint nuzzled against his stomach, tongue flickering against his skin. “Please, God, tell me you have something,” Clint groaned against his skin, hand sliding to press his palm against Phil’s boxer-covered cock.

Phil momentarily panicked before remembering. “Shit, lemme up for a second,” he said, and Clint rolled over, watching as Phil scrambled off the bed and went to the trunk in the corner. He dug around for a moment before finding a box of condoms. He fumbled with it and tossed some back towards the bed, dropping the box before he turned and crawled over to grab the lube under the edge of the mattress and crawl back onto the bed.

Clint smirked, leaning in to kiss him immediately. “Great, now get over here, because I really, really need you to fuck me,” he mumbled against Phil’s lips.

Phil huffed out a laugh when Clint pushed him flat on the bed and moved to straddle him. “You do, huh?” he asked, and Clint nodded, pushing Phil’s arms out of the way as he leaned in to run his flattened tongue over Phil’s nipple, making him shiver. “Clint,” he breathed and Clint moaned against his skin.

“I love how you say my name,” he said in a rough voice, moving down Phil’s body. “The first time you called me ‘Clint’, it felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I’m pretty sure if I was a little younger, I’d have got hard right then and there,” he said and Phil chuckled, though his laughter turned into a moan when Clint rubbed at his cock through his boxers. “Mmmm, I wanted you almost as soon as I met you.”

Phil slid his fingers through Clint’s short hair, moaning when Clint tugged his boxers down. “Same,” he panted. “You were so fucking beautiful in the sunlight that first day I got here. Your _eyes_ , Clint,” he breathed. 

“ _My_ eyes?” Clint huffed, smirking against his thigh, where he was pressing kisses. “You have the most gorgeous eyes, Phil,” he said, looking up at him, lips trailing ever higher in slow, slow increments. “They’re like the ocean after a storm,” he muttered and Phil smirked, stroking his cheek with his thumb.

“Again with the poetry,” he teased and Clint batted at his hand and glared playfully.

“Shut up, I’m trying to suck your cock, here,” he said, and Phil’s smirk grew darker.

“Seems more like you’re giving an ode to my eyes from my end,” he teased and Clint rolled his eyes with a huff and skipped the last few inches of skin to kiss and curled his hand around Phil’s erection. Phil groaned hoarsely. “More like it,” he joked and Clint laughed, but shook his head.

“Always a joke with you,” he said, the playful smile still lighting his eyes even when Clint had rolled the condom on Phil and his mouth found other things to do. Phil groaned, biting his bottom lip as he looked down at Clint. Clint’s eyes great wicked and pulled off with a smirk, licking his lips. “Like what you see?” he joked, trailing his lips along the side of his cock. 

Phil smiled, reaching down to slid his thumb along Clint’s bottom lip. “Your fucking mouth,” he muttered and Clint hummed, turning to catch Phil’s thumb and suck it into his mouth, teeth trailing along the pad. 

“I’d rather you fuck me,” Clint said hoarsely, eyes dark with lust when he looked up at Phil again.

Phil put a finger under his chin and guided him up. Clint crawled up his body, straddling Phil as he let Phil lead him into a kiss, much slower this time than the ones before. “How do you want it?” Phil whispered against his lips, hands sliding down the planes of Clint’s back – already damp with sweat from the heat in the small room – and down to grab his ass, grumbling happily when his hands cupped the firm, round globes. “Have I ever mentioned you have a really great ass?” he asked, and Clint chuckled against his lips.

“No, but I’ve caught you looking,” he said and Phil didn’t even bother looking ashamed. Phil held Clint’s gaze as he started pushing his shorts down. Clint moaned softly as he lifted his hips and let Phil push them down until Clint had to move and take over. When Clint settled on top of him again and kissed him deeply, Phil groped for the lube that had somehow ended up halfway digging into his spine. “Not to rush you,” Clint murmured against his lips. “But eventually somebody will come looking for us,” he reminded Phil, and Phil made a grumpy sound.

“That your way of calling me slow?” he asked and Clint grinned innocently.

He nuzzled Phil’s jaw. “Now why would I ever do that?” he said, kissing his jaw. “I’d go with eager, if you want the truth.” He moved to bit his earlobe. Phil chuckled, turning to catch Clint’s lips as he stopped teasing and slid a finger into him. He silenced Clint’s groan with his lips. Clint smirked, only to have his eyes flutter shut and his mouth drop open when Phil eased a second finger into him, stretching him open slowly and gently.

Clint whimpered and grimaced slightly, and Phil rubbed at Clint’s hitched thigh with his free hand, soothing him when he tensed up. “I’ll go slow, it’s okay, we’ve got time, we don’t have to rush,” he whispered, and Clint groaned, nails scratching at Phil’s chest.

“It’s okay, it’s just been a long time, haven’t dated a guy in a couple years, just girls,” he explained and Phil nodded, gently spreading Clint open as carefully as he could. When Clint’s breath hitched and he let out a shaky moan, Phil smirked, finding that same place again. Clint moaned. “God, Phil, fuck me,” he breathed, rocking back against his hand. Phil made no move to withdraw his fingers, though, teasing Clint until he cursed and lifted his head to glare at Phil. “Phil, don’t be like- Ah!” he cried softly when Phil’s fingers pressed more firmly inside of him. “Oh fuck, don’t tease me, it’ll be over so fucking fast if you keep that up,” he said shakily and Phil chuckled but nodded, withdrawing his fingers.

“Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t look at all apologetic. Clint sat up, arms already shaky as he looked down at Phil. Phil held his waist, stroking his tight abs reverently. 

He caught Clint’s grin and he just shook his head and rolled his eyes, making Clint laugh. “C’mon,” he said, holding his hand out for the lube. 

Phil handed it over and Clint leaned back long enough to slick Phil up and then toss the lube back onto the corner of the bed. “You want me like this?” Phil asked, and Clint grinned, nodding.

“Damn right. I wanna ride you,” he said, stroking Phil a few times before shifting and guiding Phil into place. Phil held his hips, helping Clint balance as he slowly slid down, sheathing Phil in his deliciously tight heat. Clint shuddered breathlessly as he took Phil all the way in. He held for a moment, and Phil ignored the urge to rock up into him and stroked Clint’s thighs, soothing him as he got used to the stretch. Clint let out a whisper of a moan as he shifted, rising up and sliding back down onto Phil. Phil groaned softly as Clint started to ride him in slow, careful movements. He shifted with Clint’s body, meeting him thrust for thrust. Clint moaned at the change, planting his hands on Phil’s middle as they found a rhythm. Phil caught Clint’s cock, stroking him back to full erection, eliciting a soft ‘hnnnngg’ noise from Clint as he let his head drop back, thrusting into Phil’s hand and back down onto his cock. Phil looked up at Clint’s face, watching every expression that crossed his face, mouth hanging open, eyes shut halfway, head dropped back. Every time Phil shifted and Clint whimpered, Phil did it again and again until Clint’s eyes fluttered and he made more delicious noises. He was absolutely beautiful, his body moving, his muscles clenching and extending, his lips parted around moans and his eyelashes fluttering, all of it was breathtaking. Phil couldn’t believe anybody could ever look so beautiful.

Before long, though, Clint’s sounds became more frustrated than pleasured, and Phil could see how his thighs were straining some every time he lifted himself up. “Clint, C’mere,” he said, tugging Clint down to lay on his chest. He slipped out of Clint, and Clint whined in complaint against Phil’s lips. “Let me,” he whispered and Clint nodded, shifting around, laughing when Phil nearly fell off the bed as they tried to roll over without getting up.

“God, sex in what is practically a cot is complicated,” Clint said with a laugh, and Phil chuckled in response, leaning down to kiss him once Clint finally fell onto his back. Phil moaned into the kiss as he settled between Clint’s spread thighs and carefully sank into him. Clint hummed, arching his back, mouth falling open when Phil’s lips moved to his throat, careful not to leave any marks where Clint’s tee-shirt would show it. Phil kept his movements measured, rolling his hips in a smooth movement to fill Clint entirely with each thrust, unlike the short, jerky movements of moments before. His palms slid from Clint’s thighs, up his body until Phil caught his arms and pushed them above his head, sliding his hands into Clint’s on the pillow above him. 

Phil ducked his head, flicking his tongue against Clint’s left nipple, making Clint jerk against him, back arched, hands clenching around his as he tangled their fingers together. Clint let out a desperate groan, legs tightening around Phil’s hips. Phil lifted his head and looked down at Clint’s face. He was rewarded by the sight of Clint’s half-lidded eyes rolling upwards as his mouth dropped open around a moan of Phil’s name. Phil groaned, feeling the pressure building at the base of his spine as he got closer to orgasm. “God, Clint, you’re so gorgeous,” he panted, pulling one hand free to move down Clint’s body. He curled his hand around Clint’s cock, pressing his forehead against Clint’s as his thrusts grew more desperate. Clint whimpered, fingers tightening painfully where they held hands above them.

“Phil, oh God, I’m gonna come, please,” he panted, sliding his free hand to clutch at Phil’s shoulders, as if he was hanging on to him. Clint opened his eyes, looking up at Phil’s face. “Fuck, you’re so hot, oh God, Phil,” he whimpered, moaning a little louder than they could really risk as he tightened his legs and shifted the angle Phil had inside of him so that it hit every nerve ending in him _just right_. “Phil!” he sobbed out, nails digging into his shoulder.

Phil kissed him to muffle his sounds. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, Clint. Let go,” he breathed against his mouth. Clint’s soft cries and moans intensified, as did the grip on Phil’s hand until it was a little too painful. He pulled his hand from Clint’s with an apologetic kiss, but Clint just curled both arms tight around Phil’s shoulders, fingertips digging into Phil’s back as he turned out of a kiss and tucked his face into Phil’s neck, pressing his mouth against Phil’s shoulder to muffle his cries of pleasure. “Clint, Clint, God, come for me,” Phil whispered against his ear, one hand holding Clint’s thigh and jerking him off with the other, trying to get Clint over the edge before he lost control. 

“Phil!” Clint cried against his skin, body seizing as he came hard, and Phil finally let go, fingertips digging into Clint’s thigh as he thrust sloppily a few more times before tipping over the edge. He groaned low in his chest and relaxed against Clint’s warm, solid body, panting against his neck. Clint moaned shakily, hands trembling as he slid his hands down Phil’s arms, curling around his forearms. “Oh God, Phil.” He panted lightly as he pressed his head back into the pillow rolling his shoulders and arching his back. Phil kissed Clint’s sweat-salty skin as he carefully pulled out of Clint, who shivered at the sensation. He sat back on his heels, chest heaving some as he looked down at Clint. He couldn’t help but stare at the sight before him.

Clint was sprawled shamelessly, thick, muscular legs spread on either side of Phil’s lap, arms laid limply to either side, breathing heavily like he’d ran a race. His sweat-darkened hair curled at his temples as much as his short hair allowed. His face, and neck were flushed. His chest glistened with a sheen of sweat and his abs were streaked and smeared with his own release as his softening cock lay in the sticky, cooling mess. “God, it’s ridiculous that anybody in real life looks like you do,” Phil said and Clint smiled brightly, reaching out to him. Phil took his hand and leaned over to kiss him, bracing his hands on either side of Clint’s head. Clint made a soft, contented sound as he sighed into the slow, lazy kiss. Clint curled a leg around Phil’s hip and maneuvered them both onto their sides until he could sprawl more or less against Phil’s chest, since they couldn’t really fit side by side on the bed. 

“God, Phil,” he whispered, tucking his head under Phil’s chin, curling his arm around Phil’s middle to match the leg he curled around Phil’s. “I’m not sure anybody’s ever made me feel that good,” Clint mumbled softly, sounding surprised and slightly vulnerable. Phil could feel the way he tensed, as if whatever Phil was going to say could break him.

Phil kissed his temple, holding him close. “You’re okay, Clint,” he reassured, stroking a hand down his flank. “We’re okay.” Phil wasn’t sure, but it seemed to be the right thing because, after a moment’s hesitation, Clint relaxed in his arms.

Phil wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, his hand slowly tracing a lazy path up and down Clint’s hip and Clint’s thumb stroking along the soft hairs at the base of his neck, but they both startled at the sound of a loud laugh in the hallway as someone passed. Clint lifted his head some and looked over at Phil’s clock, only to curse and disentangle himself. “Shit, I need to go,” he said, looking around only to spot a box of tissues on Phil’s desk. He grabbed some and wiped himself up, wincing slightly at the stickiness on his skin, then lobbed the balled up tissues at the wastepaper basket in the corner before standing up to start pulling on his clothes. 

Phil sat up and reached for his clothes as well, having already taken care of the condom. He had pulled his pants and tee-shirt back on when he looked over to see Clint tying his boot and checking that he hadn’t dropped anything around. He hesitated and then laughed when he looked at the random condoms all over the floor. Phil rolled his eyes and picked up condoms from across the floor then put them back in the half-open box sitting on the floor beside his trunk. “You know,” Clint said, catching Phil’s hips when he stood up, pulling him into his arms. “I’m tempted to ask why the hell you thought you’d need condoms on a military base, but I’m just glad you did,” he said and Phil rolled his eyes.

“I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be having sex in Afghanistan, if that’s what you think,” he said. “It’s just a good idea to pack condoms when you travel.”

Clint smirked. “Ah, so you’re an ‘always be prepared’ kinda guy. How often do you hook up with a local on vacation for you to have that kind of mentality?”

Phil snorted. “No, you didn’t let me finish.” He walked over and picked up the box, tossing it to Clint. “Condoms expand ridiculous amounts. These are totally unlubricated, plain ol’ condoms.” He reached over on his desk, behind his laptop and picked something up. Clint raised an eyebrow and took the object, then snickered.

“Coulson, is your _cell phone_ in a condom?” he asked skeptically.

Phil nodded. “Yep. Plastic bags are notoriously hard to keep sealed. This is one hundred percent waterproof and dust proof.” He shook his head, tossing the box and phone onto his cot, sliding his arms around Clint’s waist with a smile. “Told ya. Always prepared means having condoms to put your electronics and passport in,” he said with a nod.

Clint’s face split into an entirely goofy smile. “Oh my God, you’re such a dork,” he said, leaning in to kiss Phil slowly, sliding his arms around Phil’s waist. “Mmmm, the guy I’m crazy over is a massive dork.” He pressed his forehead against Phil’s for a moment and Phil watched the way the dim light in his room made Clint’s eyes sparkle. “Okay, condoms are for practical use,” he said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “What about the lube?”

Phil pulled back some and gave him a flat look. “Seriously? This is an eleven week trip. I’m old, not dead,” he said and Clint’s eyes darkened some, a wicked smile twisting his lips. 

“And on that note,” Clint said, kissing Phil sweetly. “I’m going to go. With the mental image of you touching yourself fresh in my mind.”

Phil chuckled. “Yeah, you should probably get going before somebody comes looking for us,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to have you in here at all, even if we’re both dressed now.”

Clint cringed. “That would be bad,” he said, turning and putting his hat back on as he walked to the door. He glanced back at Phil and smiled a soft, unabashedly happy smile. “Are you coming by later or are you staying in?”

Phil nodded at his laptop. “I should probably stay in. Get some writing done. I’ve got lunch with Barnes tomorrow to get some more material so I need to stay ahead.”

“That’s okay,” Clint dismissed. “I’ll catch you later,” he said, and Phil waved as Clint walked out and pulled the door shut behind him. 

The minute he was gone Phil sat heavily on his bed, trying to decide if that had really just happened or not. 

~

**June, 2014**

“‘Hindsight is a funny thing. I remember feeling like I had no idea what was happening to logical, straight-laced Phil Coulson. I felt like randomly throwing out the rule book in favor of allowing my emotions to take the wheel for a little while was the wildest, craziest thing I’d ever done in a lifetime of living by the rules no matter what the situation. Not only was having sex with someone on base against the rules, not only could it get me sent home, but I knew at the time that Clint could’ve been possibly even kicked out of the Army for what we were doing, and yet I still didn’t hesitate to give in to our shared desires. It was crazy and such a risk. But like I said, hindsight is a funny thing, because looking back at that day, looking back at the decision we made to ignore it all and make love, I realize that if I had to do it over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. 

I wouldn’t admit it to myself for at least another two weeks, but that night when I fell asleep without any doubts about us and without a sliver of fear that Clint would change his mind about me, it was obvious to me deep down that I was in love with him and somehow I knew it was safe to trust that Clint felt the same about me.’” Pepper finished reading and shook her head, smiling at Phil. “Wow, Phil. This is really good.”

Tony made a face. “Kinda bummed you left out the good stuff. Every good love story needs some dirty, dirty lovin’,” he said with a somewhat alarming eyebrow waggle.

“Whatever is making Stark do that, please can you all stop?” Phil looked up as one of the owners of Odinson’s Bakery, the younger of the two brothers – whose name Phil always forgot – brought Pepper a coffee cup and sat it beside her. 

Pepper smiled. “Thanks, Loki, I could’ve come and got it,” she said and Loki rolled his eyes.

“My brother forbid me calling your name since you were reading out loud and he was eavesdropping,” he said and there was a bellowed ‘I WAS NOT’ from behind the counter. “Don’t lie, Thor, you were eavesdropping,” he called back. Loki looked back to Pepper. “May I ask, what were you reading? It sounded very interesting.”

Pepper beamed and Phil ducked his head some “Actually,” she said, turning to show him it was an open word document on the screen. “My friend Phil is writing a book,” she answered.

Tony nodded. “And yet he skated over the juicy details of him and his soldier boy getting jiggy with it,” he said, shaking his head in mock solemnity. “Such a shame.”

Phil groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Tony, not all love stories need x-rated content,” he said with a tired glare.

Loki snorted, rolling his eyes. “Do remember who you’re speaking with. I never seem to get out of this bakery and I can still say I honestly don’t know of a day that passes I don’t hear Stark inquiring about someone’s sex life,” he said, then smiled at Pepper’s thanks before turning to leave.

Pepper snickered at the affronted look on Tony’s face. “I like that guy,” she said, then slid Phil’s laptop back to him. “Really though, that’s just so romantic. And unexpected,” she added, poking him with her foot under the table. “I’ve known you a long time, Phil, and I’ve definitely never seen you break any rules,” she teased.

Phil shrugged, smiling to himself. “What can I say? Falling in love in a combat zone can make you do crazy things.” He snorted. “God, even after we got caught, Clint didn’t want to stop, and I was in so deep I couldn’t make the call unless he wanted me to.”

Pepper gasped, grabbing his wrist reflexively. “What do you mean you got caught?!” she asked in a hushed tone. “You never mentioned-“

“I didn’t like talking about Afghanistan. It took until I decided to start writing and I started reliving it all that I’m more comfortable talking about it,” he said, but frowned. “You never heard about it anywhere else?” he asked, looking at Tony closely. 

Tony narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked and Phil suddenly snorted, laughing into his coffee.

“Because it was Colonel Rhodes that caught us,” he said, and Pepper choked on her coffee. He nodded and grinned. “I figured he’d have mentioned it at some point to Tony since then.”

Tony made an offended, overdramatic gasp and dug out his phone. “He certainly did not and I am going to have words, oh yes,” he said, standing up as he called, walking towards the door. “Hi, Honey, how’s work? Yeah, I have a bone to pick with you, mister!” 

The doors shutting cut Tony off, but Pepper was already rolling her eyes before he’d even got far from the table. Phil chuckled and raised his coffee towards here. “You’re the one that picked him,” he accused playfully. She made a despairing face, but moments later he caught her looking through the storefront window with a distant smile as she watched Tony arguing with his friend on the phone. Phil couldn’t help but remember how it felt to watch Clint bickering with his friends and know that the person he loved, while a little crazy at times, had a big heart when it came to the people he cared about.

~

**September, 2012**

Phil laughed, doubling over while listening to Bucky tell Kate about the time Steve had got in trouble in high school for fighting, even as skinny as he was. Bucky smirked. “And then Steve punched the guy right in the jaw-“

“Well I showed up at the right time to ask if you know which end of the base Captain Rogers was on, Sergeant Barnes,” a very familiar voice said and Phil jumped.

Clint looked up and grinned. “Well, well, long time since we saw you around the lowly Army digs, Colonel,” he said in greeting. 

Phil looked up and sure enough, he hadn’t been mistaken. “Uh, hey, Rhodey,” he said, waving awkwardly. Rhodey looked at him and he held his arms up in surprise.

“Phil, what the hell?!” he asked, and Phil stood up to greet him with a handshake and a clap on the shoulder. “What’re you doing in _Afghanistan_ ” he asked with a grin.

Phil chuckled. “I’m here working on a piece, what’re you doing here? You were doing that project in California last I heard.”

Rhodey nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, I’m just over here for some review work.” He gestured to Barnes. “I know Rogers from working together on a project, so I figured the fastest way to find Captain Rogers is to ask Barnes,” he said, and Phil nodded.

“Yeah, I’m actually doing my piece on them,” he explained, and Rhodey grinned.

“I’ll look forward to that one,” he said.

Phil gestured to the door. “I can take you to Steve’s training grounds if you want. He’s on the other side of the base. I go over there to talk with him every couple of days.”

“No, no,” he said, gesturing for Phil to sit again. “Don’t want to interrupt your lunch, I’ll figure it out on my own.” He clapped Phil on the shoulder. “I’m glad I ran into you, Phil, or I’d have never known you were here,” he said and Phil chuckled, but nodded, sitting again. 

“Good to see you, Rhodey, it’s been a few months,” he said, and Rhodey nodded, saying goodbye to the others briefly before turning to leave again. 

Clint turned to Phil and raised an eyebrow. “‘Rhodey’?” he asked. 

Kate grinned. “How the hell do you know Colonel Rhodes, nonetheless well enough to have a nickname for him?”

Phil shrugged absently. “My best friend is dating his best friend. I’ve known him casually for a few years.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “You know Tony Stark?” she asked and Phil gave her a curious look.

“How do you know his best friend is Tony Stark?” he asked, and she gave him a sheepish look suddenly.

Kate scratched at her temple. “You know the name Derek Bishop?” she asked, and Phil nodded.

“Of course, publishing magnate,” he said, then it hit him. “Wait, Derek Bishop is your father?” he asked, and she nodded with a rebellious grin.

“Yep! Heiress my ass. What’s a better way to stick it to the spoiled rich girl expectations than join the Army?” she asked with a proud smirk. “Either way, Tony Stark came to plenty of Daddy’s parties, and I know Colonel Rhodes is about the only friend that guy seems to have that doesn’t like him for his money.”

Phil nodded with a smile. “They went to MIT together,” he said. “My best friend is Pepper Potts, Tony’s girlfriend,” he explained.

Clint shot him a look. “Your best friend is the CEO of Stark Industries? Seriously? That hasn’t come up in conversation somehow that you run with the rich and famous?” he teased.

Phil gave him a look. “It’s hard to think of somebody as ‘rich and famous’ when you’ve seen them curled up on the couch whining because they have a cold.” He nodded to Kate. “And what about you? You’re friends with _Derek Bishop’s_ daughter, who I’ve been hanging around for over a month now, and no mention.” He nodded. “See? Doesn’t come up that often.” They all went back to their lunch and the topic of discussion changed once more soon enough.

Later that night, however, Clint brought it up again as he lay curled around Phil, head laying on Phil’s shoulder, hand stroking lazily across Phil’s chest. “Hey Phil?” he murmured softly, looking up to meet Phil’s face.

Phil hummed, hand sliding across his shoulders. “Yeah?” he asked, shifting so that Clint could rest on one elbow, looking down at Phil.

“I was thinking,” he said, thumb stroking at Phil’s sternum absently as he spoke. “That today, having you randomly calling Colonel Rhodes ‘Rhodey’, and talking about your friends… it made me realize that I don’t know anything about your life now,” he said, looking up to meet Phil’s eyes, biting his lip. “I know about your past in the CIA, and I know in my heart that I know _you_ ,” he said with a sheepish yet warm little smile. “But really, I dove headfirst into this with you and I know nothing about your life.” He winced. “God, I hope I would’ve noticed you being an asshole if you were, but for all I know, you could be married.”

Phil chuckled, reaching up to stroke Clint’s cheek affectionately. “I’m _not_ married,” he promised and Clint grinned.

“Thank God for that,” he said, sliding down so they were lying side by side, facing each other. “What’s your life like back home, Phil?” he asked softly, hand laying on Phil’s side as if he couldn’t help himself, he had to touch Phil.

Phil hummed, trying to think of where to start. “Well,” he started. “As I said today, Pepper is my best friend,” he said and Clint nodded. “Virginia Potts is the CEO of Stark Industries, but Pepper, as all her friends know her, and I met when I was in the CIA. There was a chance that Stark Industries was laundering drug money – unfounded, thankfully – and at the time, Pepper was just Stark’s assistant.” He chuckled. “Well, I say ‘just’ but since Rhodey was military and always busy, she was pretty much his only friend in the world. She didn’t have many friends either, because of how much of her life she devoted to keeping Tony’s from imploding. I respected that,” he said fondly. “I respected how hard she worked, how organized and intelligent she was, and since Tony is as flighty and self-centered as you would imagine he was back in those days, half the time I was meant to be meeting with him, I was hanging around with Pepper. We just somehow ended up getting along very well, and even after I’d moved on, Pepper and I kept in touch. Now, ten years later, she’s my best friend,” he said warmly. “If I was straight, I’m pretty sure I would’ve snapped her up before Tony got his head out of his ass and realized what was right in front of him,” he joked. 

Clint smiled, hand spreading across Phil’s ribs. “So you don’t like women at all?” he asked, and Phil shook his head.

“Nah, I’m gay,” he said dismissively. “I tried dating girls when I was out of high school since nobody wanted anything to do with me when I was in high school, but I just couldn’t make myself attracted to them. I like women as friends and colleagues, I just can’t love a woman in any usage of the word,” he said dryly. He caught Clint’s hand and curled their fingers together. “You said you’ve dated women, though, so I’m assuming bisexual?”

Clint nodded. “Yep. First person I ever dated was a girl at the circus-“

“Wait, wait, wait.” Phil gave him a doubtful look. “That joke you made about running away to the circus was a joke, right?”

Clint beamed and shook his head. “Nope!” he said, eyes sparkling beautifully as he struck a dramatic pose. “You happen to be naked in bed with ‘the Amazing Hawkeye’!” he said with a dramatic flourish that made Phil laugh.

“What the hell is an Amazing Hawkeye?” he asked, and Clint smirked.

“Before I joined the Army and became a sniper, I was already a trick shot,” he said proudly. “I wasn’t kidding, when I was eight, my brother and I ran away to the circus. A guy taught me how to throw knives and do trick shows with a bow and arrow. My act was that I never missed, no matter what. Blindfolded, upside down, standing on the back of a galloping horse, I could hit any target they threw at me by the time I was thirteen.”

Phil frowned. “Where were your parents?” he asked gently.

Clint shrugged with a bitter look crossing his face. “Died. Barney and I ran away from our sixth foster home,” he said and Phil used his hold on Clint’s hand to pull him close, holding him. Clint laid his head on Phil’s chest. “My parents… they weren’t nice,” he admitted in a small voice that made Phil’s heart clench. “I don’t remember much, thankfully, but I remember going hungry because my parents spent the money on drugs, and I remember my dad beating my brother for knocking over a bottle of beer and my mom not doing a damn thing to stop it.” He winced, tucking his face into Phil’s chest. “I remember one night my mom was too drunk or high or something and when she put me in the bathtub, she only turned on the hot water, no cold, so it burned my legs and I thought it was going to fill all the way up and boil me like a pot of soup and she thought I was just fighting taking a bath like a lot of four year olds do, but my brother heard me screaming and came and yelled at my mom that my dad was calling her name and dragged me out of the water when she was gone.” 

Phil’s chest was tight and for a horrible moment he thought he might cry. Worse still, he realized it was bigger hatred he was feeling for people who were long gone. “God, Clint,” he breathed, curling his arms around him tight, holding him close. “I’m so, so sorry,” he mumbled against his temple, kissing his head.

Clint sighed shakily, but shook his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” He lifted his head and Phil could see the pain lingering in his eyes even though he fixed a smile on his face. “The past isn’t where I like to aim my thoughts.” He leaned down and kissed Phil softly. Phil held him tight, trying to put as much comfort into the kiss as he could. Clint pulled back, eyes searching Phil’s. “What about you? You have parents?” he asked.

Phil nodded. “I do. They’re both pretty old, but still able to get around. My dad was an English teacher, and my mother worked for some government agency so secret that to this day, even though I know it got shut down sometime in the seventies, my mother still won’t say a word about it.”

Clint laughed in surprise. “You’re kidding,” he accused and Phil shook his head. “Damn, is that why you ended up in the CIA?”

Phil nodded. “Yeah, wanted to do something cool like my mom. Turns out ‘spy stuff’ was only cool back during the cold war. I did not at all enjoy tracking down drug lords. That’s why I got out and started writing.”

Clint nodded, seeming to be content with the answers he’d got. He looked at Phil for a long time, then finally grinned. “So what you’re saying is, there’s no Mrs. Coulson back home making me the woman on the side,” he concluded with a wink.

Phil laughed softly and shook his head. “No, nobody back home.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Clint said confidently. “I feel in my heart like I really know you, Phil, and you don’t strike me as the cheating type or the open relationship type.”

Phil shook his head. “No, and no.” He huffed dryly. “These days I’m the ‘no dating at all’ type.” He sighed heavily. “Sadly, it doesn’t matter if you’re gay instead of straight when it comes to dating once you pass forty. I haven’t met anybody interesting that wasn’t married or committed to someone else since I turned forty. Three years and it’s just been me and my writing.”

Clint smiled warmly, eyes full of something so _real_ that Phil felt more alive just because Clint was looking at him that way. “Yeah, well, people in New York sound like dicks, then,” he said and Phil raised an eyebrow questioningly. Clint pressed his lips to Phil’s knuckles. “I thought you were the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen when you walked up that first afternoon, Phil. And since then, the more I get to know you, the more I realize you’re a beautiful person, not just a beautiful face,” he said earnestly. “How could anybody miss what I see?”

Phil couldn’t help but feel flattered by Clint’s words. “You’re a weird one, though. I mean come on, Clint. You’re thirty-three and look like a Calvin Klein model.” He shook his head. “What the hell do you see in a middle aged, balding, graying writer? I’m not complaining at all, because you’re so much more than your face and body and for some crazy reason, you chose to let me see the real Clint Barton… but it’s still weird.”

Clint shrugged absently. “I can tell when people like me for my looks. That’s been the story of my adult life. End up with a girlfriend or the rare boyfriend between deployments who doesn’t really give a shit about me, just likes how I look, then as soon as my orders come in, they move on to the next pretty person. There’s a reason I don’t have much experience with love,” he said simply. He reached out and stroked Phil’s cheek. “But with you… I don’t know. You seemed interested in me even though sex wasn’t supposed to even be on the table. You would let me show you things, and you’d talk to me about stuff, and I felt like-“ He stopped, looking down sheepishly.

Phil smiled and squeezed his hand. “You felt like what?”

Clint sighed, giving him a shy smile. “I felt like you actually cared, not just about my face or my arms, but about me.”

Phil pushed Clint over onto his back, leaning down to kiss him slowly, putting every emotion he could into the kiss. “Clint, you are not just your appearance. You’re funny, and smart, and interesting. For goodness sake, you are an Army sniper who grew up doing trick shots in a circus. You are so much more interesting than any man I’ve been with on the basis of ‘probably has the best stories of his youth’ alone,” he joked.

Clint bit his lip, eyes showing a glow of vulnerability as he looked up at Phil. “There’s just something about you, Phil. Something that drew me to you. I couldn’t tell you what it is, but whatever it is, I don’t want it to go away,” he admitted weakly. “And that’s a scary feeling.”

Phil’s stomach twisted and he nodded, gathering Clint into his arms, holding him close. “I know how you feel,” he whispered against Clint’s skin, settling down with Clint’s warm weight against his chest as they let silence fall over them, choosing instead to just enjoy each other’s presence before Clint had to get up and go to his own barracks. 

However, before they were ready to give up sharing leisurely kisses, curled around each other so closely that the cool night wasn’t all that cool, there was a knock at Phil’s door. They both froze, staring at each other for a moment before Clint scrambled backwards, falling off the bed with a curse. “Shit, fuck, shit,” he cursed, scrambling for his clothes. Phil stood up and grabbed pants and a tee-shirt, tugging them both on quickly. He tried to flatten his hair and turned to wave a hand and shush Clint, who stilled and froze, standing there with his boxers on and his pants in his hands.

Phil opened the door a crack and wasn’t sure whether to be relieved it was just Rhodey or terrified because it was _anybody_. “Phil, hey,” he said. “I figured we could catch up.”

Phil nodded. “Yeah, sure. Uh.” He glanced back and Clint gestured wildly. “Maybe I can meet you… somewhere outside?”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “Uh, okay.” He smiled with a curious eyebrow raise. “Everything okay, Phil? You seem kind of-“ He was cut off by thump and a curse behind Phil. Phil winced, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. He leaned back and looked over to see Clint trying not to fall over again, hanging onto the desk with one foot in his pants and the other twisted around the leg of the desk. “Phil,” Rhodey said in a tight voice and Phil looked back, schooling his face to a carefully blank expression. Rhodey sighed heavily and put a hand over his face. “Phil, you’re not alone, are you?” he asked, and Phil cringed but shook his head.

“Not so much, Rhodey,” he admitted awkwardly.

Rhodey groaned and looked down at Phil’s chest then back to his face. “Going by the standard issue ACU tee-shirt you’re wearing, it would be too much to hope it’s not a soldier, wouldn’t it?” 

Phil cringed awkwardly as he glanced down and realized he’d grabbed Clint’s shirt when he got up. “Yeah, kinda,” he said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. He deflated some. “Look, Rhodey, I know you have to do what you have to do, but Clint-“

“Whoa,” Rhodey said suddenly, holding up a hand. “Phil, look at me,” he said sternly. “Do not say a name and do not open the door further where I can see him,” he said and Phil hesitated. “It’s gonna be like this,” he said, stepping back some. “I didn’t see anything, I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t see anybody, I don’t know anything about it, and I don’t even know Barton’s first name.” He held up his hands and laughed humorlessly. “But Phil,” he said seriously. “You’re gonna fuck up real bad if you’re not careful,” he warned.

Phil let his head thump against the doorjamb. “Oh don’t I know it. Thanks, Rhodey.”

Rhodey barked out a laugh. “Thank me by not getting caught,” he said, turning to walk away without another word.

When Phil shut the door and leaned back heavily. “Shit.”

Clint cursed, crossing his arms as he stood up an stepped out of his half-twisted pants. “Phil-“

“Rhodey will cover for us. He won’t say anything. I trust him,” Phil said, and Clint nodded uneasily. Phil walked back to the bed and sat on the edge of it heavily. “Clint,” he said softly, looking up at him. “I understand if you don’t think it’s worth the risk. That was… a close call to say the least.”

Clint looked at him closely, but shook his head. “No,” he said and Phil’s throat went dry. He ducked his head, looking down at his knees. However, instead of getting dressed and leaving, Clint came over and sat beside him, curling his arms around Phil. “No, Phil, you’re misunderstanding.” He leaned his chin on Phil’s shoulder. “I mean no, I don’t want to end this.” Phil turned to him with an eyebrow raised and Clint smiled sadly. “Phil,” he whispered, reaching up to curl his hand around Phil’s neck. “I don’t want to stop seeing you.” He pressed his lips to Phil’s, earning a soft sigh of relief. “You’re too much of a good thing to just give up, Phil.”

Phil shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he said, but grinned and grabbed Clint by the arm and pulled him along as he fell back onto the bed. Clint grinned and crawled over him, pressing him into the mattress with a kiss. 

“Good crazy, right?” Clint asked against Phil’s chin, pressing soft, teasing kisses over his skin.

Phil chuckled, letting his eyes flutter shut when Clint’s lips skated down his neck. “Still undetermined,” he muttered dryly and Clint laughed and shoved him playfully before curling up beside him, laying his head on Phil’s shoulder, holding him close.

They knew it was a dangerous game they were playing, but as they lay in each other’s arms, there was no denying on either part that it was worth it.

~

**June, 2014**

Phil hadn’t had a panic attack in a long time. 

After he started writing, he hadn’t had many nightmares or anything, even. He had feared that writing about it all would bring up the bad memories, but it seemed that instead of bad things, he was reminded of all the good things the fears had hidden away for a little while. He’d had less flashbacks and less nightmares in the past two months than he had since he’d come home from Afghanistan.

However, when he got to Stark Tower just in time to see Derek Bishop shaking hands with Tony and getting into a car, he could see the lines in the man’s face and the dimness in his eyes that indicated a heavy weight the man couldn’t get away from, and suddenly it was too much. Phil could remember the same bone structure on a younger, prettier face and everything in him locked up. His vision swirled and the sounds of shouting and the roar of his own pulse pounding in his ears overpowered the smell of vehicle exhaust and the sounds of car horns around him.

Phil had no idea how long he stood there, muscles locked in place, solid and unmoving in the wave of people going either direction around him, but he only became aware of his ragged breathing, his heart pounding, and the fact that someone was clutching his shoulders and calling his name when Tony slapped him, the blow jolting him out of the flashback. Pepper’s voice shouting angrily at Tony was the first thing that filtered through and he shook his head, coming back to the sight of Pepper’s red, angry face as she berated Tony. “Pepper?” he mumbled weakly.

“YOU DON’T HIT SOMEBODY HAVING A PANIC ATTACK, TONY! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” she shouted, clearly uncaring of the small crowd she was drawing. 

“I was trying to get his attention!” Tony argued weakly. “I didn’t smack him or something, just a pat on the cheek! He’s kinda not breathing, Pepper, I had to do something-“

“You don’t HIT someone to try and get their attention, God, Tony, you are so- GRRR!” She growled and Tony stepped back slightly, holding his hands up innocently.

Phil coughed lightly, blinking as he came back into himself. “Pepper, I’m okay,” he said, and she turned to him, anger melting as she clutched his shoulders gently again.

“Phil? You back with me?” she asked, then pulled him into a hug. “I’m so sorry about Tony. He’s a dumbass sometimes,” she said, and he smiled weakly, patting her back with shaky hands.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” he said and she pulled back, arm going around his shoulders.

“Come up to my office, you can settle and relax,” she said and Phil nodded, hooking an arm around her waist as they headed into the building. He ducked his head, ignoring the people looking at them as they passed. Phil waited until they got to the private elevator before he put his head in his hands and leaned back against the wall, finally letting himself give in to the urge to fall apart. Pepper had seen him a lot worse than a few tears being shed, so he didn’t care that she pulled him close and let him cry against her jacket. “It’s okay, Phil,” she whispered.

Phil let out a weak laugh. “I’ve gone so long without an episode like that. I don’t even have nightmares anymore,” he mumbled and she shushed him. 

“You want to talk about it?” she asked, and Phil groaned, pulling away from her to wipe at his cheeks, though not many tears had fallen.

“Tony was seeing off Derek Bishop,” he said and the heartbroken look in Pepper’s eyes said that was all she needed to hear.

~

_One name you’ve seen me mention a lot by now is Kate. Kate Bishop was one of Clint’s subordinates, and as I discovered the more I knew him, the soft spot he had for her wasn’t just because of how young she was. Kate was like a little sister to Clint. She had been in his team since she was nineteen, and in the two years they were together, she became something like his best friend. The closer I got to Clint, the more I saw how she fit into his life, and their friendship was one thing that sticks with a person._

~

**September, 2012**

“Alright, Katie-Kate,” Clint called, looking through his binoculars. “We’re looking for the three of hearts,” he said, and Kate held up an ‘OK’ signal and looked back down her sights.

Bucky twisted the dial slightly on his spotting scope. “About eighteen inches high, adjust for the wind from the west at about eleven miles per hour.”

“Confirm,” Kate said, and Phil picked up the binoculars he’d been handed and looked out at their targets – a board with cards nailed to it – where it was sat a solid eight hundred meters out across the field on a dirt pile. Phil found the three of hearts just in time for Kate to shoot and for the bullet to punch a hole in the upper left corner of the card in question.

Clint whistled. “About two inches high and one inch to the left, but chances are it would be a kill, not bad, Bishop.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she called, then swapped places with Bucky. “What’re we looking at this time?” she asked, taking up the spotting scope.

Clint looked through the binoculars. “What do you say, Phil. Queen of clubs or jack of diamonds?”

Phil looked to see the queen was on the very end. “Go for the queen, give Barnes a challenge,” he said, leaning back in the lawn chair comfortably.

Clint laughed. “You heard the man!” He pointed at Barnes. “You got this one, soldier?” he asked and Bucky chuckled.

“You bet your sweet ass I do, Sarge,” he said, then settled. “Alright, Katie, give it to me.”

“Seventeen inches high, wind at about nine miles per hour from the west,” she said, and a moment later the queen of clubs had a bullet an inch above her head. “Nice shot,” she said, and she and Bucky high-fived.

“Nice,” Phil said, then shot Clint a look, pushing his sunglasses down. “Think you can do better?” he challenged and Clint smirked.

“Always, Boss,” he said, taking off his sunglasses and bringing the binoculars to Bucky. “Give me a target,” he said, swapping places with him. 

“Nine of diamonds.”

Clint nodded, finding it in his sights. “Alright, Katie-Kate. Time to give me the numbers.”

“Sure thing,” she said, then recited the numbers to him. When Clint took the shot, Phil whistled as the bullet hit the card just a half an inch to the right. “Go Clint!” Kate cheered.

Clint grinned back at Phil, who hummed. “Not bad. Not dead on, but not bad,” he teased and Clint narrowed his eyes playfully.

“I’d like to see you do better, Coulson,” he grumbled playfully, then chambered another round. “Give me the numbers again, Katie-Kate,” he said, and Barnes let out a low whistle.

“Showing off now, Barton? Trying to impress Phil or something,” he teased, and Phil saw the way Clint tensed nervously, even though they both knew the other two had no idea how true that probably was. 

This time, when Clint fired on Phil’s new target, he hit it dead center. Kate cheered, throwing her arms up. “Yeah, bitch!” she cried, high-fiving Clint when he stood up.

“Good spotting, Katie!” he said, pulling her into a headlock and dragging her with him as they headed over to Phil, who gave them a golf clap. Clint rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, that was impressive.”

Phil smirked slightly. “Oh it wasn’t unimpressive. Internally, I’m cheering like a soccer fan. However, I don’t outwardly show excitement,” he said flatly.

Kate laughed. “I’m trying to decide if you’re being serious, or if you’re just so successfully deadpan that nobody will ever know.”

Clint nudged her with a grin. “Phil is the most impressively deadpan guy I’ve ever met.” He leaned in and mock-whispered. “I think his tie is keeping secrets.”

Kate laughed and shoved Clint, standing up. “Come on, Barnes. I need some practice,” she said, going back to the gun. “Come spot for me,” she said, and Bucky stood up again.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he drawled, running to catch up to her when she packed up their long range rifle and went to get different guns from the range master. 

Clint walked over and flopped down in the chair beside Phil. “Sooo, what do you think? Are you wildly turned on by my shooting skills?” he asked with a smirk.

Phil rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m fighting to keep my pants on.” He pushed his sunglasses down and winked at Clint. “Honestly, though, it was kinda hot,” he admitted with a tiny smile and Clint laughed softly.

“God, you’re incredible,” Clint said breathlessly, his eyes positively alight as he looked at Phil in a way that made Phil’s chest tighten with emotions. 

“BARTON!” Kate called. “Come on!” she shouted, saving for him to come to the shorter range with them.

Clint looked back to Phil, who smiled and nodded. “Go on, I’ll find my way back,” he said and Clint grinned.

“See ya tonight,” he said with a brief touch of Phil’s hand before turning and jogging off after them.

~

That night, when Clint showed up at Phil’s room, he kissed Phil as soon as the door shut, but Phil could tell he was a little distant. It wasn’t until they moved it to the bed and Phil reached down to press his palm against the front of Clint’s pants that he realized exactly how ‘distant’ Clint was. “Um.” Phil hesitated, trying to find the appropriate reaction for finding Clint absolutely soft under his hand. Clint sighed heavily and flopped back, wiggling slightly until Phil put his hand on his hip instead. “Clint-“

“It’s not you,” Clint groaned, putting his hands over his face. “Shit, Phil, I’m sorry,” he said, and Phil tutted, leaning over Clint to kiss him. Clint curled a hand in the back of Phil’s hair and kissed him deeply. “I can- I’ve just got stuff on my mind-“

“Clint, stop it,” Phil said, rolling to his side, pulling Clint until they were facing each other. “Just because you snuck over here doesn’t mean you have to give me anything, Clint,” he said firmly. “If you need to be somewhere else, I understand. You don’t owe me sex just because we made plans,” he pointed out.

Clint smiled sadly. “God, but I want to,” he said softly. “See? You’re so damn understanding. On top of everything that you are, you’re also just plain _nice_.” He pulled Phil closer, kissing his forehead. “I promise, very rarely do I stop wanting to have sex with you, even when I’m thinking about the task at hand, somewhere in the back of my mind sex with you is definitely there,” he said and Phil rolled his eyes with a laugh. 

“Charming,” he said and Clint winked lasciviously.

“Stop being so damn sexy then,” he joked. His smile faded and he made a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. “I was on my way here when one of the girls caught me and let me know that Katie was getting into some trouble and I had to go stop her from getting her ass in serious trouble. That’s why I’m late,” he said and Phil waited patiently. Clint grinned affectionately. “See? I’m late and making excuses and you still are understanding. God, you really are perfect, huh?” he teased, hooking a knee over Phil’s thigh. The only thing he’d lost clothing wise was his boots and jacket, and Phil wasn’t used to lying in bed with Clint fully clothed still. 

Phil rubbed a thumb across his clothed hip. “Is she okay?” Phil asked and Clint’s eyes hardened some.

“I’m… disappointed,” he said with a bitter twist to his words. He groaned, crushing his eyes shut. “I know what goes on around here, I know damn well because I used to do the same shit. Hell, look at me now, I’m sneaking around with you,” he said with a gesture. “But Katie- she’s just-“ He sighed. “Kate’s a good kid. She’s a good soldier and a good kid. She’s strong and determined and works harder than most people I’ve ever worked with. And I’m not just disappointed in her, I’m disappointed in myself. I should be pissed at her, I should’ve turned her in. I’m responsible for reporting infractions and disciplining my subordinates, which is what she is,” he said firmly. “But I just- she’s _Katie_ ,” he said in an almost desperate sound. He chuckled weakly. “I’m a walking example for why there are anti-fraternization regulations.”

Phil felt a little guilty at the reminder that what they were doing was wrong. “I’ve noticed Kate’s not exactly ‘just another soldier’ to you,” he said neutrally and Clint nodded, tucking his head under Phil’s chin as he snuggled closer. 

“Kate’s just different. At the start she was so angry at the world. She was so tightly wound and to straight-laced and I loved her determination but hated seeing her so isolated. When I finally got her to open up some, when we started getting to know each other, it was like magic,” he said softly. “She’s probably the most important person in my whole life. She’s- she’s so special to me.”

Phil rubbed his back. “You’re not in love with her, I can tell that much,” he said and Clint nodded. “But you do love her.”

Clint pulled back to meet Phil’s eyes. The turmoil in his eyes made Phil have the strangest urge to make things better. “Remember how I told you about my older brother?” he asked, and Phil nodded. Clint shook his head. “We ran way to the circus together, but we didn’t leave together. He abandoned me just like everybody else I ever cared about has,” he said and Phil’s chest clenched. Clint smiled sadly. “Kate is an only child, and in a way I think taking her under my wing, so to speak, was my way of trying to be the big brother mine never was to me,” he admitted in a small voice saturated with pain.

“Oh Clint,” Phil said in a soft, heartbroken tone, brushing his fingers across Clint’s cheek.

“She’s like the sister I never had, and I’m so fucking proud of her, Phil. The two years I’ve known her, she’s become such an incredible person and an amazing soldier,” Clint said, grimacing. “So this shit hurts. It’s worse than if I just got pissed off, but it hurts to feel disappointed in Kate. She’s _my_ Katie and when she makes stupid decisions, it hurts.”

Phil kissed his forehead as he curled his arms around Clint again. “Can I ask what she did?” 

Clint snorted. “She probably got to go Skype with her dad and he probably said some patronizing shit and it probably pissed her off, which I get totally. Fucks sake, he loves her, I know, but he’s a shitty dad,” he said matter-of-factly. “But no matter what happened, she has no excuse for getting drunk and trying to fight somebody.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “I cannot picture Bishop drunk and trying to fight somebody. She doesn’t strike me as the type.”

“Well, normally she’s not,” Clint agreed. “But when she gets pissed, she gets _pissed_. I guess somebody was breaking open their stash tonight and after she’d got a few in her, she decided to pick a fight. One of the girls in her barrack caught me and I had to go get her ass before somebody caught her. She was out behind the latrines fighting with some girl who was built like the tank she probably drives,” he said with an eye roll. “Katie almost got her ass kicked and if I’d been caught in a women’s barrack when I dragged her drunk ass to her bunk, I’d have got in serious shit, too, so we both could’ve got in really bad trouble over something she did.”

Phil kissed Clint’s hair tenderly. “Not to kick you while you’re down… but you do remember the part where you could get in serious shit if we get caught, right?” he asked and Clint pulled back to look at Phil.

“Yeah, but if we get caught and I get in trouble, it’s because of what I did. It’s because of my choices I made,” he said pointedly. “If I got in trouble for Katie’s bullshit, it’s not the same. If I was a better soldier, I’d report her, but I love her so I’m not gonna. However, I won’t hold it against anybody who catches us and has to do what they have to do.” He leaned in to kiss Phil gently. “I made my choice the day I followed you up here after the IDF false alarm. I know it’s against the rules, but how I feel when I’m with you?” He shook his head, his eyes full of warmth and seriously. “Nobody has ever made me feel the way you do, and I’m willing to risk it.”

Phil closed his eyes and pressed his smile against Clint’s forehead, gathering him into his arms to hold him tight. He knew exactly what Clint meant.

~

**June, 2014**

“ _‘I knew then that Clint was willing to take the risk for us the same way he took risks for Kate because of the very same reason: Love. I knew that night that, even if neither of us had spoken the words, there was no doubt that Clint was in love with me and I with him. It may seem strange that I could’ve been so certain of something that most people are never quite sure of, but I know how to read people. I know how to tell if someone is lying, and I was trained once upon a time to know half-truths too._

 _But more than that, I felt it in my heart and soul that I_ knew _Clint. I can’t describe it in words that somehow I instinctually felt a connection to Clint. From the moment we met, I felt like I could trust Clint with anything. I chose to entrust him with my heart and, that night, I knew that somewhere along the lines, he had chosen to entrust me with his._ ’” Nick looked up and shook his head with an amused smile playing on his lips. “Damn, Coulson. I knew you wouldn’t fail me now. Not after all these years.” He tossed the pages back to Phil. “It’s good. It’s real good. How long until you think you’ll have a draft for me?” he asked expectantly.

Phil grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s harder to write the closer I get to the end. I only got this far because I had a panic attack that made me obsess over that night for a while and I had to put it on paper so I could sleep. I hadn’t had a panic attack in a long time before that.”

Nick nodded. “Don’t undo the progress you’ve made, Phil,” he said in one of his rare displays of concern. “I’ve let you work on your own schedule ever since you got home because you’re a damn good writer and I like you. I want to keep liking you because of your damn good writing. If you need to slow down, do it. Just know that however long it takes you to finish this, I will be waiting for it. Because this?” He put his fingers on the pages in Phil’s hand. “This is the stuff that comes once in a lifetime. This is the kind of thing lands people on a best-seller’s list. It’ll be worth the wait.”

Phil smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Nick. I’m glad you have faith in me.”

Nick chuckled. “Hell, Phil, you’re a good man and a good writer. It’s not faith, it’s just facts.”

~  
 **July, 2014**

Phil and Pepper walked into Odinson’s Bakery arm in arm, already chatting about something, just in time to overhear an argument in the corner from a cluster of tables full of Stark employees and a couple of non-employees who looked overwhelmed. And Steve and Sam, Phil noticed with a small grin. Sam spotted him and waved and Phil nodded back. 

“LISTEN!” Fitz’s voice carried above the din. “I’m not saying Stark isn’t a cad, we all know he well and truly is – God knows how many times he’s called me very inappropriate names – but I just don’t think he and Doctor Banner are having an affair,” he said, crossing his arms with finality.

Skye groaned. “Fitz, come on. That’s like saying Jane isn’t dating Jørgen or whatever-“

“Okay, his name is Thor, and he’s right over there. He can hear, you know?” Jane countered, glaring. “And besides, Doctor Banner wouldn’t do that-“

“Oh please, how else do you think Mr. Stark has kept Doctor Banner from traveling for so long?” Simmons countered and Fitz gesticulated at her. “No, Fitz, listen-“

“Jemma, it’s ridiculous-“

“Fitz-“

“Jemma-“

Darcy spoke up, waving her spoon. “Does anybody else think you’re all insane? Also, Thor’s creepy Goth brother is glaring at you all. I’m gonna talk to Steve-“

Steve held up his hands from a table a bit away from their cluster. “For the love of God please don’t bring me into this.”

Pepper snorted and Phil chuckled in reply as they approached the counter. Thor’s ‘creepy Goth brother’ stopped glaring long enough to take their order. “Good morning, Pepper. The usual?” he asked politely and she nodded. 

Phil ordered and Loki took it down. As he rang them up, he glanced at the arguing scientists and rolled his eyes. “Oh please. As if Bruce would date _Stark_ ,” he said with a small, secretive smile at Pepper.

She grinned brightly. “Oh like Tony would cheat on me,” she said with a cocky eye roll. She leaned closer and patted Loki’s hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell them that Bruce is taken,” she said and Phil’s eyebrows shot up as Loki ducked his head and a small blush graced his high cheekbones. Phil raised an eyebrow at Pepper, who shrugged innocently. 

As they walked away Phil couldn’t help but mutter, “Seriously? The dark haired kid?”

“Hey,” she said with her hands held out to her side. “You know as well as I do love comes in the most mysterious ways. Apparently for some of us, it’s ten-plus years younger and entirely unlike what others would expect,” she said and Phil snickered, at the thought of shy, awkward Dr. Banner and the young, chronically unimpressed man behind the counter.

When they got over towards the tables, it was downright hilarious how Fitz spotted them first and his eyes grew to the size of ping pong balls and he yelped an oddly feminine squeak. “Ms. Potts!” Everybody else immediately fell silent, expressions ranging from ‘deer in the headlights’ to pointedly blank and convincingly innocent. 

Sam turned around and beamed when Phil got close. “Coulson! Hey, man!” he cried, standing up to hug him. Phil patted his back with a bright smile of his own.

“Hey there, Sam. Long time since I saw you.” He looked at Steve. “Bucky have an appointment with Stark?” he asked, and Steve nodded, worriedly picking at the label of his coffee cup.

“He said yes to the neurosurgery and the new prosthesis,” he answered in a nervous tone.

Pepper put a calming hand on his arm. “He’ll be fine. Tony and Bruce are both geniuses. He’s safer with them and the team of neurosurgeons than anybody else.” 

Darcy was having a whispered argument with Jane before she finally rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Pepper!” she said brightly and the others all made horrified sounds and started shushing her. She ignored them instead. “Settle a bet! Is Tony having an affair with Doctor Banner behind your back?” The way she asked with such a straight face had to be some kind of special skill, Phil figured.

Phil snickered into his hand when Pepper smiled brightly. “Oh please, you think Tony does anything behind my back? Even if I did doubt him, his AI likes me better so he listens to me and tells me every time Tony does something he shouldn’t. Besides, without me, Tony couldn’t even fill out a form to renew his driver’s license,” she said with a shrug. 

“Here you are, Ms. Potts,” Loki said, bringing her her muffin and coffee. “You know, I heard that Doctor Banner likes younger men anyhow,” he mentioned casually, sharing a small smirk with Pepper before he went back to the counter to get Phil his coffee.

Phil just swallowed back the laugh that threatened to break free when the others all burst into a flurry of new theorizing and speculating. When Pepper’s phone went off and started playing Frank Sinatra, she cursed and nearly dropped her coffee. “Damn it, Tony!” She fumbled for her phone. “I swear to God, Phil, I’m going to slap him one day, I really am.” She answered the phone. “Stop messing with my phone, Tony!” she said in lieu of ‘hello’.

Phil, however, was sucked into a memory by the song and all he could think about was a night from years ago.

~

**September, 2012**

When Clint had asked him to bring something he wrote and meet him at the south end of the base after eight, he was very confused, but did as he was told because he trusted that Clint had a good reason for making him go out in the cool night. When he got to the spot where Clint had asked him to meet him, Clint came out from behind a blast wall and gestured for him to be quiet. Phil followed Clint as they climbed between two of the blast walls and made their way through the long-range shooting field where they had spent the afternoon a few days before.

“Clint, what are we doing?” he asked, glancing down when Clint caught his hand and laced their fingers together as they walked towards the hill where the targets were.

Clint glanced at him nervously. “You’ll see,” was all he said as they headed over the top of the mound of dirt and grass. The moon was bright enough they didn’t use a flashlight, but when they crested the dirt hill, Phil could see a fire going at the bottom on the other side of some rocks. 

“Clint, how the hell…” He trailed off when Clint led him over to some blankets spread out over the ground beside the fire. “Seriously?” he asked flatly, though he knew Clint could see the playfulness in his eyes even in the dark.

Clint beamed. “Fifty bucks and the password to tomorrow night’s PJ poker tournament and the range master let me have permission to book the range all night. He thinks I’m out here shooting in the dark to check my night vision scopes, but whatever.” He pulled Phil over to the blankets. “Point is, nobody will see the fire from here and nobody will question it if they see people out here anyways.”

Phil sat down and Clint flopped down beside him, pulling a thermos and a bag of marshmallows from beneath a folded corner of the blanket. “Best I could do for a late night picnic date,” he said sheepishly. “Coffee and marshmallows.”

Phil couldn’t help himself as he leaned over and kissed Clint short and sweet. “You’re seriously the best man I’ve ever met,” he muttered simply, as if it was the most honest truth he knew. Clint just ducked his head bashfully but leaned into his side some in response.

“You deserve it, Phil,” he said and Phil couldn’t even respond, his chest was so tight with emotions. “Right, so! Coffee?” he asked, opening the thermos and handing it to Phil. “Oh, yeah, music!” He dug around under the pile of extra blankets and came back with a battered MP3 player. “The external speakers suck, but it’s quiet so we should be able to hear it well enough,” he said, and Phil sipped coffee as he watched Clint flick through a playlist and settle on something. 

Immediately the music that started was Frank Sinatra and Phil actually choked on his coffee some. “Oh come on,” he said flatly, giving Clint a stern look. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”

Clint frowned. “Uh… wow, that’s a very strong reaction to a song. I’m guessing if you hate Sinatra that bad there’s a story-“

“No, that’s the problem. I _love_ vocal jazz,” Phil said with a small, disbelieving laugh. “There is no way in hell you actually listen to Frank Sinatra on top of everything else that makes you perfect. Nobody is that perfect!”

Clint’s frown turned into a warm, equally disbelieving look. “Really? I mean, I didn’t know you even liked jazz. I just figured it was good ‘easy listening’ type stuff so it isn’t so quiet out here. I just went with a go-to ‘background’ playlist.” He shook his head, looking breathless as he bit his lip. “Shit. You love jazz. Goddamn, Phil, where the hell have you been my entire life?” he asked in a small, overwhelmed voice.

Phil shook his head, but looked down, sipping some coffee. “Clearly I didn’t even know that I was waiting to find you,” he said and Clint’s breath hitched. Clint stared at him for a moment with an indescribable expression before he scrambled to his feet and held out his hand. Phil raised an eyebrow and Clint’s eyes took on a mischievous glint. 

“Dance with me before I kiss you five minutes into our date and don’t stop,” he asked and Phil chuckled but nodded, closing the thermos before taking Clint’s hand and standing. He stepped into Clint’s arms and Clint wasted no time curling his hands around Phil’s hips and guiding him around the fire so they didn’t trample all over their blankets as they danced. 

Phil shook his head at the overwhelmingly happy look in Clint’s eyes as they swayed together, dancing around to jazz for far longer than Phil cared to admit. He laid his head on Clint’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he sank into Clint’s warmth, trusting Clint enough to close his eyes and let himself sink into the feeling of dancing around on a cool, crisp night beside a fire with the man he was slowly losing any hope of not becoming addicted to.

It was Sinatra again that was playing when Clint, unexpectedly, started singing along. “Fly me too the moooon, let me play among the stars.” Phil pulled back, jaw dropping as he looked at Clint. Clint seemed to take his shock in stride and he pulled Phil’s hand into his, guiding him around to the more upbeat tempo, singing along with dramatic faces. “Let me see what spring is like on a- Jupiter or mars.” He winked and stepped back to wave a hand. “In other words, baby kiss me.” He leaned in and kissed Phil with a playful smack, squeezing him around the waist some. 

Phil just stared in breathless surprise at the smooth, rich voice Clint sang in. He had never suspected Clint could sing, but his voice was warm and beautiful. “Fill my heart with song and let me sing for ever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore-“ Clint missed a bit, his swaying stopped, and the playfulness left his eyes as he stilled, looking closely at Phil. Phil missed the next few lyrics and was distracted through the instrumental interlude as he gazed in soft expectation at how serious Clint’s eyes had become. He swallowed hard and stepped closer so that his forehead bumped into Phil’s. He looked him in the eyes and just before he spoke, Phil realized with a jolt what he was about to say. His heart did a veritable backflip when Clint smiled nervously and spoke over the last words. “In other words, I love you.” Phil stared at him for a moment in breathless silence, ignorant of the song that came on next as he tried to breathe. Clint’s gaze turned vulnerable and his smile slipped some. “Ph-Phil?” he asked almost fearfully.

Phil could see the doubt creeping into Clint’s eyes and could feel the way his heart started to pound, no doubt from fear of rejection, and Phil suddenly found his voice. “I love you, Clint,” he breathed, raising his hands to curl around the back of Clint’s head. “I love you, too.”

Clint’s smile came back and his eyes shined bright as the stars above their heads as he leaned in and kissed Phil sweetly. Phil, however, couldn’t help but kiss him more firmly. Clint moaned softly, hands sliding up Phil’s back, pulling him close as the kiss grew quickly more and more heated. “God, I love you, Phil. This is crazy, but I swear I do,” he breathed against his mouth.

Phil nodded, sliding his fingers through Clint’s shortly shorn hair. “It’s insane. It’s fucking insane, but I know, I know Clint, because I love you, too.” 

They barely managed to stagger over to the blankets before they tumbled down, rolling and grabbing and rutting against each other frantically, hands clutching and pulling at clothes but both unwilling to part long enough to do any real stripping. When they were finally naked with one of the blankets thrown over them so that the cool air was a distant worry, bodies sliding together, limbs tangled, fingers digging into skin, mouths searching, and pulses racing, Phil would vaguely remember the way Clint looked at him like he had just seen God every time Phil whispered his love against Clint’s skin. The curve of Clint’s bottom lip as his mouth hung open and the arch of his back and neck, illuminated by the warm, dancing light of the fire when he came apart beneath Phil was a sight so transcendent and breathtakingly beautiful that the stray thought flitted through Phil’s mind that Bernini would be jealous. The way that Clint looked at Phil while his chest was still heaving was more than enough to shatter Phil apart at the seams, leaving Clint to piece him back together.

It was only later, as they lay curled together, Phil’s head on Clint’s shoulder and his arm and leg thrown across Clint’s body while Clint read one of Phil’s collections of short stories with his free hand, that Phil found it in him to talk. “I’ve never felt this way, I don’t think,” he muttered softly, breaking the long silence.

Clint laid the open book face down against his hip and looked at Phil, fingers dancing across Phil’s naked skin under the blanket. “Felt what way?” he asked, looking uncertain.

Phil glanced up to meet his eyes. “This. What I feel for you. It’s… it’s so much more. It’s sudden and that should feel wrong, but nothing has ever felt more right in my life.”

Clint bit his lip nervously. “I’ve only loved one person before you, and it never felt this strong. It was… a spark compared to this all-consuming inferno,” he said and Phil grinned.

“Again with the pretty poetic language,” he teased and Clint rolled his eyes at him. Phil leaned up on his elbow and kissed Clint gently. “I know what you mean, though. I’ve had a few serious relationships, and three times I thought I’d found real love. But that all felt like practice to make sure I knew how to tell it could feel so much _more_ when I finally found actual love.”

Clint smiled up at him. “You’re way more handsome than the other guy I loved anyhow,” he said and Phil chuckled.

Phil eyed him closely. “I know you said your relationship history wasn’t the best, but you’ve really only ever loved one person before me?” he asked gently.

“Yep,” Clint said with a nod. “That first guy I told you about who cheated on me when I was in training. He was… fake,” he said decisively. “I think I loved him because he pretended to be everything I wanted but was faking it all along. His name was Adam, I was twenty-two, he was twenty, and he was tall, thin, had the biggest brown eyes and dark hair and gorgeous dark tan skin and I thought he was the love of my life.” Clint rolled his eyes. “Then what happens? I’m gone for ten months and find out he apparently decided that was too long to go without sex and thought I’d just understand when I came home – we lived together – after he didn’t pick me up from the airport like he said he would and there was not one but _two_ women in various states of undress making breakfast in my kitchen.”

Phil cringed. “God, that’s horrible.” He stroked his thumb along the line of Clint’s clavicle. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Clint hummed, looking down at Phil’s arm. “It messed me up. I think it’s the reason afterwards that I let people just use me, more or less. I mean, it’s not ‘using’ you if you’re aware of it and don’t try to find anything more, I guess. But I knew people I dated only liked me because they could prove something by dating me,” he admitted with a sad little smile. “Longest relationship I had after Adam was this girl named Tiffany four years ago. She and I lived together when I was home, I met her family, she took me to Christmas and stuff like that, but I knew damn well that she was showing me off because I was her ‘sexy soldier boy’. Her parents were impressed she was dating a guy in the Army, not some bum, and her friends were impressed she’d landed somebody that had an athletic body who didn’t spout health-nut advise all the time…” He sighed. “She didn’t really love me and I don’t think I loved her. I tried to, because at least she was good to me. Didn’t cheat on me when I was gone, didn’t try and change me, stuff like that. We just got along instead of _enjoyed_ each other, you know?”

Phil chuckled humorlessly. “Welcome to my entire dating history.” He shook his head. “Nobody I dated ever cheated on me, to my knowledge, but we were never very happy together. Just content to not be alone, I think.” 

Clint nodded. “What’s the longest relationship you ever had? Mine was Tiffany. We were together for two and a half years. Adam and I only dated six months before I left for basic and he started cheating on me, but we lived together since we’d been roommates before we got together.”

Phil groaned. “After I quit the CIA when I was thirty-five, I decided I wanted to ‘settle down’. I started dating this boring, _boring_ business man named Richard. I still don’t know what the hell his job was,” he said and Clint snickered at Phil’s admission. “Something in sales where he sat in his office, talked on his phone, went out with clients to schmooze with rich people, and went golfing _all the time_.” He let his head thump onto Clint’s chest. “I dated him for five years. The five most boring years of my _life_. I haven’t dated anybody since because when I finally got rid of him I realized that I didn’t want to date anybody I didn’t _want_ to date and I haven’t met anybody in the past three years that felt worth it.”

Clint gave him a searching look. “Didn’t you say you’d been in love three times?”

Phil nodded. “Yeah. All when I was younger.” He shook his head. “None of it every really lasted any length of time. I dated a man named Brock-“

“Wait, seriously?! Brock?” Clint asked skeptically and Phil laughed.

“Yes, Brock.” He shook his head. “We dated for about eight months when I was in my early twenties. We were both CIA and it was fun, we had a great time together, but when it came time to choose him or my job it was hard, but my job won out. I loved him, but not enough to make it about us,” he said. “Then when I was twenty-nine, I fell in love with one of my partners on a mission. We were traveling around the world chasing this drug lord for about six months and I loved that man so much it broke my heart when it turned out he was leaking information that kept the guy we were chasing two steps ahead all the time.”

Clint’s breath hitched. “Shit, Phil.” He hugged him closer. “I’m so sorry.”

Phil hummed sadly. “It sucked. A lot. But sometimes the people you love aren’t who you think they are.” He smiled at Clint. “Then the third one was Ben. Ben was… everything I wanted at the time. He was my neighbor in DC, and we dated for a year and a half. We practically lived together since we lived right across the hall from each other and ended up with half our things spread between each other’s places.”

Clint frowned. “What happened to him?” he asked.

“He wanted to have children and I didn’t,” Phil said with a sad shrug. “We loved each other, and it was horrible leaving him, but we just wanted different things out of life. He made it clear when we were just getting to know each other that he wanted marriage and kids, and I thought if I was happy with him maybe I would start wanting them too. But I never did. I’d like to get married one day, I think, but kids are just not for me. I don’t even have friends with children because they’re just so not my thing and it’s hard to have something in common with people who do have kids.”

Clint nodded. “No shit,” he said with a grin. “So of all those people, why was Mr. Boring the one you lasted so long with?” he asked curiously.

Phil groaned, stretching. “I wanted to make it work. My parents liked him, my friends were impressed by him, and I guess I didn’t think I could do any better. He was handsome, smart, and made a lot of money. We didn’t have too much in common, but we had enough we could get along. We moved in after just under a year because it just felt easier since we didn’t have a lot of spare time. We had similar tastes in food and music, so dates were pretty nice, if a little ‘formal’. He never made me laugh, but he wasn’t one to laugh at much of anything unless it was his fake laugh for clients. He liked to take me to dinner meetings with a client and their spouse and I’m great at faking interest so I was a good partner for that. He didn’t have a lot of time off, so we were never sitting around the house together really. The sex wasn’t great, but it was good enough that neither of us started wishing we had someone else. We went on expensive vacations and he’d spend most of it working from his laptop so I got to have fun on my own.” He shrugged. “After Pepper and Tony got together, about a year before Richard and I called it quits, I saw how happy they were and I got jealous of Pepper. I mean, Tony was a pain in the ass from the minute she started working with him, but even when they were just friends, I could see they made each other happy.”

Clint nuzzled into Phil, shifting his hold on him. “Let me guess, when they started dating they were even happier?”

Phil smiled warmly. “No, that’s the thing. They weren’t any different,” he said and Clint eyed him curiously. “They weren’t happier with each other because they were always happy with each other. Tony still pisses Pepper off all the time and Pepper still worries too much about him that she starts to dictate his life, but they love each other and that’s enough. They fight all the time, but never once does it occur to either of them that being pissed off could mean the end. They’re best friends. They’re each other’s chosen family. Same as always before. Now they just occasionally admit they love each other instead of keeping it secret and sleep together instead of with other people. They have this effortless relationship and I felt so formal with Richard. I never felt like he was my friend. I never felt like we were family. I spent five years with him but not once in those five years did I ever feel like he was anything close.” He snorted. “We didn’t even argue. We never had anything we were both passionate enough about to argue. If he wasn’t happy with something, he’d fake like he didn’t care until he got over it and I did the same. We never sat around and bickered. We never teased each other. Pepper spends half her time threatening to slap Tony or smother him in his sleep, and even if it’s a joke, I’d have never joked about that with Richard because we just weren’t so easygoing and playful. God, in the five years we were together, I don’t think he ever made me laugh in bed a single time,” he realized with a small smile.

Clint rolled his eyes. “I cannot imagine you the way you’re talking about yourself. So… complacent. You’re so sharp witted and funny. You’re playful and so much fun to be around.”

Phil nodded. “And I spent five years bored out of my mind.”

“Why did you guys finally split up?” Clint asked and Phil chuckled dryly.

“Oh God,” he sighed. “Richard’s firm wanted him to move to LA. I’d built a life in New York already. I mean, I started out in Massachusetts as a kid, then moved to DC when I joined the CIA. When I got out of the CIA, Pepper and Tony had moved to New York most of the time and I wanted a new start so I moved to New York on a whim since I knew I’d at least have friends there. Pepper and Tony still occasionally spend a few months back in California, but I built a new life so I wasn’t alone when they were gone. I met and lived with Richard for that whole time, and then when he wanted to move us to LA, I just told him that I didn’t want to leave New York. He told me he was going to LA, there wasn’t another option for him, and I told him I was okay with that. It wasn’t a break up, it just was a mutual decision that he cared about his job too much to give it up and I agreed with him that he put too much into his work life to give it up for something that I knew wasn’t love. I moved to a new apartment I could afford and was more suited for one person than the huge one we had together and he moved to LA and that was that.”

Clint shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve gone three years since without meeting anybody.” He smiled brightly. “I’m totally glad, because I wouldn’t have you now if somebody else had snapped you up,” he added. “But… God. What do people not see in you?” he asked.

Phil chuckled. “Too free spirited I guess. At my age, anybody wanting something serious wants to settle down and get boring and I spent five years bored. I like to travel and try new things and enjoy life too much to settle into a pattern like many of them want. I have a job that’s very flexible so I can do things when I want to do them, but most people at my age have a committed career they’ve been working their whole life towards so they’re happy with a boring routine I just can’t stick myself back into.”

Clint stroked his thumb along Phil’s eyebrow, smiling at him. “Good thing you found a younger man to love you,” he said and Phil’s belly flipped at the feeling of how new and wonderful that four letter word said between them felt.

Phil kissed him sweetly. “You know, I never asked… where do you even live?” he asked with a frown. “And where are you from?”

Clint grinned. “I don’t live anywhere, really. The base I usually work at when I’m not deployed is in Georgia but I just rent out a room from some old lady or something whenever I’m around because I’ve never been home for longer than six months. I volunteer for repeat deployments since I kinda live my job.” He smirked. “But as far as where I’m from, you’re lookin’ at a pure-blood hick from Iowa. The land of corn fields and meth,” he said with a dramatic gesture.

Phil snorted and shook his head. “Hey, clearly they grow sexy men in Iowa with their corn and meth,” he added and Clint snickered, bumping his forehead to Phil’s. Phil stroked a hand down Clint’s chest and kissed him gently. “I hate to be a downer, but it’s getting late and we’re kinda naked at the business end of a gun range in the middle of Afghanistan,” he mumbled against Clint’s lips and Clint laughed, but nodded.

“Yeah I know. I’m trying to ignore the fact that we need to get dressed and go back,” he mumbled with a dramatic pout.

Eventually they had to make their way back. After putting out the fire and bundling up the extra blankets, Clint walked with Phil to the main area of the range and Phil paused to give him a quick kiss before leaving first so they didn’t get caught. It wasn’t until Phil got back to his room that he realized Clint had kept the book of short stories.

The next morning when he got to breakfast Clint handed him the book back and thanked him. Phil smiled when he opened it later and found notes in the margins in Clint’s tiny but legible scrawl.

~

**July, 2014**

“Phil?! Phil!” 

Phil suddenly looked up and was surprised to see that not only were he and Pepper the only two still in the bakery besides Steve and Sam, but that Pepper looked frantic and Sam was kneeling beside him. Phil frowned in confusion, looking at Sam. “Why are you on the floor?” he asked, and Sam let out a small huff.

“Of course that’s the first thing you say.” He stood up and put a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Still blacking out, huh?” he asked, and Phil frowned.

“Wait… how long-“

“Fifteen minutes!” Pepper said quickly. “And that’s what I noticed! I was talking to Tony and then Jane asked me a question and it wasn’t until they all left and Steve started to ask you something and you didn’t respond that I realized you were just kinda frozen there.”

Phil groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes. “Great, a panic attack a couple weeks ago and now a blackout. Wonderful,” he grumbled. 

Steve frowned. “You had a panic attack? You haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

“Oh, I know,” Phil said, shaking his head. “I saw Derek Bishop when I was going to visit Pepper,” he said and Steve’s eyes grew soft with sympathy.

“Aw, Phil,” he said, rubbing at his shoulders. “You think it’s the writing that’s brought this on again?”

Phil shook his head. “Maybe susceptibility to symptoms of my PTSD, but it was her phone,” he said, and Pepper gave him a guilty look. “No, Pepper, don’t do that. Tony changed your ringtone and even then, he couldn’t know.” He smiled sadly. “Hey, at least the flashback was something nice. Last time I had a blackout I woke up crying and screaming. Arrow didn’t come near me for days.”

Sam gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder. “Hey, it’s always better to have nice flashbacks.” He gave him a meaningful look. “Maybe you should start coming to group sessions again,” he suggested and Phil winced, but nodded.

“Probably should,” he admitted to himself out loud. “But right now, I need to go write something,” he said, grabbing his coffee and standing. “I’ll see you guys later.”

~

_It’s hard to even think about my last day in Afghanistan even now. It’s been nearly two years now. The whole time I was there, I heard about things going wrong. One day around the sixth week there, a patrol hit an IED and two people were killed. There was a car bomb at the gates that killed six Afghani civilians while I was there. There was a lot of horrible things I heard about and some scary moments when Clint and his group got shot at and came back with bullet holes in their Humvee._

_However, I saw so much worse when I was working for the government. I worked with hunting drug lords so there were more than a few times we came across people who had been executed and a twice I actually witnessed it. I killed people in my lifetime. I put bullets into bodies and ended lives. One of the main reasons I got sent to Afghanistan was supposed to be my ability to handle the atrocities of war to get my story. I was supposed to be there for eleven weeks and come home with a story and a unique memory._

_What I ended up with was nine weeks in Afghanistan, a story I couldn’t make myself write, memories of people who never got to come home, and the happiest two months of my life all tarnished by PTSD when I wasn’t supposed to be susceptible to it after everything I’d been through before. I guess trauma that hits you emotionally isn’t the same. I guess seeing people you’ve seen every day for the past nine weeks lying dead on the ground, regardless of whether you knew their names or not, is different than killing people who were doing bad things._

_What comes next may not be as comprehensive as readers could wish for, but bear in mind that every word you’re reading was a struggle for me to write._

~

**October, 2012**

The day that everything went wrong, Phil felt like the whole day had started off great.

Clint had managed to get the morning off since the others were cleaning their guns before afternoon drills, so he showed up at Phil’s room at 0700 with packages of powdered donuts and a smirk. Phil dragged him into the room and they spent the next hour and a half taking their time exploring every single inch of each other’s bodies, touching, tasting, and simply _feeling_. 

Around 0900, Clint found the half-smashed donuts buried under one of his boots and crawled back into bed, tucking himself into Phil’s side as they sat against the headboard and shared them. Phil chuckled as Clint fed him a bite of donut then licked the powdered sugar from his lips. “Do you know, I don’t think a man’s ever showed up for a seven AM booty call and then fed me snack foods that are basically sugar, fat, and various chemicals that probably shouldn’t go in the human body after?” he asked cheekily.

Clint just gave him a roguish eyebrow wiggle. “Everybody deserves empty calories after life-affirming sex,” he said, cackling when Phil just shoved a donut in his mouth to shut him up. Clint laughed around the mouthful of sugar and donut he chewed and wiped his powdered sugar sticky fingers across Phil’s cheek. Phil gave him a glare and patted his equally dirty fingers against Clint’s chest. Clint swallowed and laughed, only to moan some when Phil ducked down to lick the powdered sugar from his sternum. “Not fair, I’m still touch-sensitive.” When Phil sat up Clint leaned in and licked his cheek clean.

“Ew, great, sugar-sticky saliva all over my face,” Phil grumbled playfully, wiping his cheek against Clint’s shoulder.

Clint groaned in mock-sympathy and kissed Phil sweetly. “Poor baby.”

“Shut it, you,” Phil chastised with an impish gleam in his eyes. He curled his hand around Clint’s thigh and teasingly stroked his inner thigh as he kissed him deeply and slowly.

Clint moaned into his mouth. “Phil, Phil, don’t,” he whined, catching his wrist. “I could totally get hard against if you keep that up and I don’t have time for another round of sex. Also, if I had two orgasms in one morning, I might not be safe to operate large machinery for the rest of the day for all the daydreaming,” he added and Phil burst out laughing, leaning back some. Clint chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the way Phil clapped a hand over his mouth to cover his laughter. “Wow, it wasn’t _that_ funny-“

“It really was,” Phil choked out, then curled his hand around the back of Clint’s head, pulling him into a series of sweet, tender pecks, too busy laughing to kiss him firmly. “I had no idea I could induce an orgasm so good it stuck with you all day.”

Clint smirked. “Oh yeah, between the best fucking I’ve ever got and the blowjobs to end all blowjobs, I’m pretty sure I’m ruined for all others.” He pecked his lips sweetly, voice dropping an octave as he spoke again, looking into Phil’s eyes with such passion Phil’s breathing went ragged. “You possess this uncanny ability to take me apart with your lips and fingertips, Phil.” Clint kissed pecked his lips again. “You can take me to the edge and back so many times,” he added. “You tear me apart until I think I can’t take the intensity and then put me back together in a way that drains every ounce of pleasure possibly from my body. I wish I had a whole day off and a bed that isn’t a cot so I could spend all day in your bed, making love and eating donuts and reading your work and making love again.”

Phil shivered, kissing him hungrily. “God, Clint, I want that, too. So badly,” he moaned, pulling Clint into his lap as Clint’s lips fell to his neck, sucking marks low enough that his collar would cover it. “Fuck, _Clint_ ,” he moaned, hands clenching around the thigh, muscular thighs on either side of him.

“God, Phil, you’re so incredible,” Clint moaned, kissing up Phil’s throat to his chin, then his lips, and past that to press kisses to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow, his forehead, and into his hair.

Phil ducked his head and licked and nipped at Clint’s chest, flattening his tongue against Clint’s nipple in a way that made him jerk and cry out softly. Phil’s hands kneaded the flesh of Clint’s ass as he kissed up to his collarbone and alone his shoulder. “Clint, didn’t you say something about needing to not get into another round of sex?” he asked and Clint whimpered when Phil pulled away.

“Fuck it,” Clint said, pulling him into a deep, hungry, heady kiss that felt like he was trying to climb into Phil and possess him entirely. “If I have to go before I get off, I’ll just deal with it.”

The universe had other plans, it appeared, because as soon as the words left Clint’s lips, Phil heard a strange whistle and a distant ‘thud’. “Clint, what-“

“Fuck.” Phil could see the fear in Clint’s eyes as he stared at him for a moment before suddenly scrambling out of the bed. “Fuck, Phil, get your clothes-“ He was cut off by the sound of a much louder whistling and Phil barely made it to his feet before Clint leapt across the bed and tackled him to the ground just as a loud, jarring explosion hit so close that the building itself rattled around them. “Hurry!” Clint barked as he scrambled up, pulling on his pants and shirt and shoving his feet into his boots, not bothering to buckle his belt or lace his boots more than halfway while Phil scrambled into the sweats he’d been sleeping in and his tee-shirt, shoving his feet into his shoes. The IDF alarms were finally going off by the time Clint grabbed Phil by the arm and dragged him to the door. 

When he wrenched it open, other people were already running down the hall to the door to the outside. “Clint-“

“Those are mortars, not rockets,” Clint hurriedly spit out, words tumbling out of his mouth so fast it was like he didn’t have time to let them fully form before he had to get them out. “Phil, get downstairs, follow the contractors into the bunker, I’ve gotta get to my CB post, but promise me you’ll get to a bunker and stay there,” he said, pulling Phil around to face him right there in the hall in front of everybody.

“Yeah, I will-“ Clint started to pull away and Phil had no idea what it was in him that urged him to do something so risky, but at that moment something in him knew that he _had_ to. “Clint!” he cried, stopping him to pull him around and kiss him hard and fast. “I love you,” he said, and he could see a cold terror fall into Clint’s eyes, like he felt the same thing Phil did.

“I love you, Phil Coulson,” Clint breathed in a rush, pressing their foreheads together for a split second before pulling away and running, shouting for people to move. “CB TEAM, OUT OF THE WAY, MOVE IT!”

Phil fell into the throngs running out, only to stumble against the rail when, from the slightly elevated perspective, he could see plumes of black smoke from less than a few hundred yards away, could see fire down the road, and could hear people barking orders and shouting things. Someone shoved him from behind and he stumbled down a few steps before he got his feet under him, keeping upright as they ran down the stairs. However, before he was at the bottom, he heard the tell-tale whistle of an incoming mortar and he and a few others leapt over the rail, falling the five or six feet the rest of the way to the ground just in time for an explosion to rock the area. Phil heard screams from not far away, and as he and a few others stood up and started to run towards the nearest bunker, the scream of another incoming mortar made them instinctively drop to the ground just before an explosion so loud that Phil could feel his whole body jerk in pain as the blast wave passed them rocked the street. When he lifted his head, slightly disoriented and ears ringing, the first thing he saw was a crater in the street about seventy yards ahead.

Then he saw upwards of half a dozen people lying on the ground varying distances from the crater, some moving, some not, but all of them quickly becoming covered in blood from what he could only guess were frag wounds. 

Suddenly he really wished he had that flak vest Phillips had ordered him to wear.

He staggered to his feet again, still dizzy from the blast, and took off running as straight a line as he could towards the nearest bunker. There were already about fifteen people crammed in, but he wedged himself in with them, everybody hunkering down. He didn’t see but three soldiers out of all of them, the rest were contractors. Most of them were from the same building he was bunked in.

Within moments of getting to the bunker he heard different types of blasts. “That’s ours,” one woman said, her wet hair down around her shoulders instead of in the buns he was used to. She saw him looking and looked down at her wrist, quickly pulling her hair back into a messy bun. “Caught a few of us off the night shift getting ready for bed,” she said with a shrug.

Another woman beside her was only wearing pants and a tee-shirt, no boots. “Swear to God, if those fuckers get me half-dressed and unarmed, I’m coming back to haunt their caves,” she said bitterly, shivering in the cold, crisp October morning air, and it took Phil a moment to realize the hysterical laughter was coming from him. 

The male soldier behind her reached past her shoulder and put a hand on Phil’s shoulder, squeezing. “It’s gonna be okay, man,” he said, and Phil nodded, wiping at the tears of laughter (probably more than laughter) off his cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Phil said, letting his head thump back against the concrete behind him as they listened quietly to the sound of artillery fire from their side. Phil winced pathetically when he heard the painfully noticeable whistle of an incoming mortar followed by a loud explosion. It was further away this time, but still close enough to tell it was probably inside the compound. There wasn’t any artillery fire for a few moments and Phil could feel the woman beside him – the one with no shoes and bare, dirty feet and unprotected arms – stiffen.

“Shit, that sounded-” the male soldier said, looking at his friends. “Can you see?” he asked the woman with the wet hair and she looked out the crack beside her and nodded grimly.

“The smoke’s coming from a CB post. That was the seven-seventy-seven that stopped firing.” They could hear other artillery fire that continued on, but the louder and closer one had been hit by the mortar. Phil could hear the beating of rotors getting louder and the woman looked out the crack again. “Two Apaches. We should be okay in a few minutes,” she said, but before she could finish that screaming whistle that was growing painfully familiar ripped through the sky and the explosion that shook the base further along the far wall closer to the mountains quieted another set of artillery. “Shit, that’s the sixth one. What the fuck is taking them so long?! Smoke the whole fucking mountain and it’ll at least shut them up!”

The woman nearest Phil reached out and grabbed her friend’s wrist. “They’re doing it as fast as they can, they’re down two CB teams. We’re safe here. We’re on the far side of the compound from the mountain.”

Phil put his head in his hands. “Tenth time,” he muttered to himself. The woman beside him turned ot him curiously.

“No, there were only six,” she said and he looked up at the roof of the bunker, shaking his head.

“No, something my friends said.” He laughed humorlessly. “ ‘Eight times out of ten it’s a false alarm and the ninth time is a miss.’” He looked at her. “I asked ‘what about the tenth time’. This is the tenth time.”

She nodded solemnly. “Yeah, there’s always a tenth time.” 

Phil spent the next few minutes listening to the artillery fire being rained upon the mountain and then spent the next twenty minutes of silence looking at the haunted, distant look in the eyes of the soldier next to him.

When the ‘all clear’ sounded and they left the bunker, the woman beside him grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. “Shit, we gotta get you to a medic,” she said, and Phil looked down to see blood streaking his left forearm.

He hadn’t even felt any pain when the frags hit him.

When Phil got to the hospital on base, he was far from the worst of the wounded, so a nurse simply handed him a towel and sat him on a chair out beside the desk, out of the way of the main thoroughfare of people bringing in wounded. He even had a METTAG hanging around his neck with all four tags left attached. He watched people being carried past and most of their METTAGs were on yellow or green and they were helped into empty areas to wait. Occasionally someone with a red tag was brought through.

Phil was sitting there when a stretcher was carried in with great urgency bearing Barnes, whose whole body was bloody. His left hand was gone and his arm was shredded all the way up to his elbow. Phil was pretty sure it wasn’t even necessary to have his METTAG torn down to the red tag. 

Phil was sitting there when Steve came in hauling a limping Sam, whose right leg was bleeding profusely, over to a nurse, who immediately helped lift him onto a gurney. His METTAG was torn to the red Phil noticed when they wheeled him past. 

Phil was sitting there when a less urgent pair carried in a stretcher bearing the unmoving, dirty body of a young woman whose torso was littered with holes from fragments but who wasn’t as bloody as many of the others. He realized it was Kate when they walked and stopped just in front of him and he saw her pale, pretty face covered in dust but no blood. For a moment Phil wondered if she’d just got lucky, but when they sat her down on the floor not even five feet from him and simply walked away, he saw that her METTAG was torn to the black.

Phil was still reeling, still trying to comprehend that Kate – Clint’s Katie – was lying dead on the floor just a few feet from him when a gurney was wheeled around the corner and his ice-cold blood all stopped. As they came closer, he saw Clint’s unmoving body was littered with small scrapes and scratches, but there was blood coming out of his nose and ears. 

When Phil saw the color of his METTAG on the way past, the dam finally broke and right there, in the hospital, in the middle of all the hospital staff, in amongst dead, dying, or injured patients, Phil sat back in his chair, put his head in his hands, and started to cry.

Nobody looked at him twice for over an hour.

It wasn’t until his arm had been checked and bandaged and he was crossing the waiting room that he spotted Colonel Phillips coming his way. He stopped and waited expectantly, but Phillips just stared at him until he got right up to him, inches from his face. “Injured?” he asked in a clipped tone, and Phil nodded.

“Just a little one,” Phil muttered, the first words he’s spoken in hours.

Phillips grunted, eyes cold with anger. “You wouldn’t happen to have an excuse for why there was a casual mention of Sergeant First Class Clinton F. Barton coming out of your room in the contractors barracks when the attack started, would you?” he asked, and Phil’s throat tightened painfully. “Or how about the suggestion that he might’ve kissed you before attempting to make his way all the way across the damn base to get to his post instead of being already on his side of the base this morning?” Phil didn’t speak, but he could feel his breath coming in painfully quick jolts and his eyes burning. Phillips must’ve took one look at him and got all the answers he needed. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Coulson, there is an emergency flight to get the wounded who need extra care back to the US leaving in ninety minutes. You will be on it, do I make myself clear?” he asked.

Phil managed a strangled, “Yes, Sir” before Phillips nodded and continued on his way. Phil didn’t waste a moment’s time before heading back to his room to gather his stuff and get to the airport. 

When he was packing, he realized Clint’s jacket was still lying on the floor, half kicked under the bed. He let out a broken sob as he shoved it into his trunk along with everything else, stopping only long enough to regain his composure before picking up his bag and his trunk and leaving the room without a backwards glance.

There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to get the hell out of Afghanistan.

~

**July, 2014**

_I still have that jacket hanging in the bedroom closet. In the very back, behind suits and tee-shirts and jeans, it’s hanging there, still smelling faintly of powdered sugar. It amazes me still that at seven in the morning on October 3rd, 2012, my day started perfectly with the man I love, unhealthy snack foods, and absolutely no clothes, and yet by noon, my entire world had been torn apart and rearranged with holes and gaps all over the place._

_Since that day, I’ve suffered bouts of depression, flashbacks, nightmares, blackouts, and panic attacks. For the first few months, I was falling apart at the seams. Things got progressively better, and now almost two years later, the only reason I’ve had one blackout and one panic attack was renewed memories from writing this all out. I’ve come a long way in my recovery, but I’m far from the one who has made the most incredible recovery._

Phil paused typing and yawned, rubbing at his tired, dry eyes. He stretched, arching his back over the arm of the couch, stretching his arms high above his head, only to sigh when he relaxed and leaned back, looking towards the bedroom door, and found a pair of sleep-soft blue eyes looking back at him.

“Phil, are you ever coming to bed?” Clint asked as he shuffled across the gap and sat down on the edge of the coffee table, looking at Phil. “You need rest, Phil,” he said, reaching out to rub a thumb along the dark shadows under Phil’s eye.

Phil smiled and shifted to face Clint a little more so he could see his hands moving along with the words he spoke. “I know, but I’m almost done. I’ve literally just got to finish the epilogue, then I’ll be right there.”

Clint fixed him with a stern look. “No,” he said with finality and Phil raised an eyebrow. “It’s three in the morning, Phil. You can write the epilogue tomorrow. Nothing is going to change overnight.” He pulled Phil’s laptop into his own lap and clicked save before shutting it and putting it aside. Phil gave him a grumpy look and Clint smiled as he stood up. “Awww, come on, Hon, don’t be like that.” He held out his hands. “Besides,” he said in a lower tone and with an expectant smile. “Would you _really_ rather sit out here writing alone instead of get into bed with me?” he asked with a dramatic flutter of his eyelashes.

Phil cracked a smile, unable to hold out. “The adorable shit kills me,” he admitted with a sleepy smile before standing up and curling his arms around Clint as they both stood in the too-narrow gap between the coffee table and couch.

Clint leaned into his hold and positively purred when Phil’s hand skated up his spine. “Mmmm, I’m sleepy now, but I promise, if you keep doing that, in the morning I’m waking you up with a blowjob,” he said and Phil snorted, rolling his eyes as he turned and prodded Clint along towards the bedroom. “I’m serious, it’s just not fair Arrow gets all the petting. I’m totally petable. 

When they got to the bedroom, Phil sleepily brushed his teeth and got dressed for bed before crawling into bed and taking off his glasses. The minute his glasses were on the side table, Clint leaned over him and turned off the lamp, then dragged Phil back into the warmth of the covers, curling his arms around him. Phil pressed his lips to Clint’s cheek, then to his jaw, and then to his mouth, earning two slow, teasing nips at his lips before Clint hummed contently and let Phil curl up in his arms “Phil, I know this has all been really hard on you, reliving all of what happened to us, and I know this has to sound stupid as hell to you, but I can’t ever thank you enough for sticking with me since we came home.” Phil stayed quiet, knowing that Clint wouldn’t be able to see him signing in the dark even if he did have free hands. “And I know you feel like you don’t deserve the credit because you think you’ve been too needy when I’m the one that lost my hearing, but Hon, all my progress, all the quick learning that you seem so proud of me for…” Clint kissed Phil’s forehead. “It was you, Phil. You are the only thing that made me want to get better. You needed me and you believed in me and I had the desire to learn faster and the drive to recover so much because you make me want to be a man worthy of that.” Clint smiled against his hair. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Phil. I love you.”

Phil couldn’t help the prickle in the corner of his eye as he turned and pressed his lips to Clint’s throat. “I love you, too,” he mouthed against Clint’s skin, knowing that even if he couldn’t see or hear in the dark, Clint could feel the words Phil so desperately needed him to.

“Damn good thing you do,” Clint muttered sleepily, a small smile on his mouth as he settled in to go to sleep. “It would be awkward as hell if I had to resort to creepy, one-sided stalker love, so I’m glad you love me,” he said and Phil couldn’t help but laugh, swatting at Clint’s shoulder as his way of saying ‘shut up and go to sleep’. Clint just snuggled closer, curling himself until he was almost wrapped around Phil completely.

Phil had no issues at all with that, because in his forty-five years on the earth, there wasn’t a single place he’d rather be than in Clint’s arms.

 

~

Epilogue:

_Corporal Kate Bishop was killed when one of the last mortars hit the truck Clint’s team was assigned to for their part of the counter battery fire. She and Barnes were running to the truck when it was struck and she was killed instantly when fragments pierced her heart._

_Sergeant Bucky Barnes lived, but he lost his left arm entirely. They were able to amputate to the elbow and stabilize him for transport on the same plane I left Afghanistan on, but after two weeks of surgeries chipping away at what was left of his arm due to unfixable damage and a terrible bout of infections, he lost the arm all the way to the shoulder._

_Captain Sam Wilson took fragments to his leg while trying to get to a bunker and Captain Steve Rogers picked his friend up and carried him to the bunker before leaving the safety of the bunker and running back and forth three times, helping wounded soldiers get out of the open. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his acts of selflessness in favor of helping his fellow soldiers._

_Sergeant First Class Clint Barton was lucky enough to not be hit by any of the fragments of mortar or exploding vehicle that killed Kate and took Bucky’s arm, but the concussive blast hit him in such a way that it ruptured blood vessels in his head, left him in a three day coma, and left him with eighty percent hearing loss in his left ear and eighty-five percent hearing loss in his right ear._

_In the attack on base, seven people lost their lives and over sixty others were injured. After the attack, Clint and Bucky were both out of the Army do to their disabilities, but Steve chose to give up his career in order to care for his husband and Sam made the decision to leave the Air Force due to his PTSD symptoms being a risk for his duties. One of the injured men that Steve helped to safety happened to be Colonel James Rhodes. Even though Rhodey had just sprained his ankle and claimed he would’ve made it to the bunker without help, Tony took the idea ‘Steve saved my best friend’ to heart and since then, he had devoted himself to developing better and better prosthetics for Bucky as a thank you. Through his research and development for Bucky, Stark Industries is now funding testing for the unapproved prosthetics Bucky got to be fully vetted and put into production for public use. Tony plans for all proceeds from the prosthetics to go towards projects for the care of wounded and homeless veterans._

_Sam started up a group for people – both military and civilian – who suffer from PTSD to help offer information about treatment options, help to find doctors, and a group therapy session twice per week after battling his own PTSD. Both Bucky and I have joined his sessions many times since he started._

_The biggest success story in my opinion – though I am admittedly very biased here – is Clint. Clint has hearing aids – also a development gift from Tony Stark – so he can hear, but he is deaf now. The damage to his ears is permanent. However, instead of lapse into feeling useless the way I did at first, as soon as Clint was out of the hospital and realized I was serious about him coming to live with me – we had never talked about our possible future together; I think we were both too afraid of the reality of me leaving very soon to face it – he started looking into learning sign language. Within two months he was able to sign very well and began to teach me. I’m still not perfect, but after he was successful at teaching me, he started teaching the others around us. Not everybody has been able to or has wanted to bother learning to sign since, other than when he’s going to bed or taking a shower, Clint wears his hearing aids, but after realizing he could teach it well, Clint started looking around. Eventually he found what he wanted and for the last year Clint has been teaching sign language to newly deaf people and the loved ones of newly deaf people at a community center. He spends every single week day, from early morning until late afternoon, teaching people sign language and, in doing so, providing an example of ‘life doesn’t have to be worse now’ for those who were really down about themselves._

_Clint is such an inspiration to me. He claimed just last night that I’m the reason he wanted to be so successful in his life adjustments and his recovery, but he has to know that he is an inspiration not just to me but to everyone that is lucky enough to know him._

_Afghanistan changed my life in many ways. Many of them were bad ways. But even with the bad changes, Afghanistan gave me some really, really good ones. I met three of my closest friends and my life is better for it. I met the love of my life and he has made me happier than I can express with words. And most of all, after such a tragic event and after so much trauma suffered from it, it taught me to really appreciate what I have while I have it._

_I fell in love with a man over the course of just a few weeks and knew within two months of even knowing him that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Two years ago, that would sound insane to me, but as it is now, I know better. Life is too short for waiting on the right time. The right time to speak, the right time to act, the answer to all of it is ‘right now’. Because you never know how long you have left with someone. Clint could’ve died that day. He almost did die that day. And because I didn’t hesitate to tell him how much I loved him nine weeks after meeting him, Clint knew how much he mattered to me, and I could never regret that. Some people would say it was insane for us to move in when he got out of the hospital, but all the same, I can only say that the right time is always ‘right now’ and I wanted him to live with me right then and from that day forward. Clint is my hero and I want to be able to let him to know that every day for the rest of my life._

_I fell in love with Clint the way a coal seam fire burns. At first there was a spark, a point of ignition that started what would smolder and burn beneath the surface for a long time. That fire is still burning inside of me, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. There may be gusts that make my love flare up at times and smolder slower and cooler at others, but I know for a fact that, just like a coal seam fire, chances are, nothing in this lifetime or the next could extinguish the love I have for that man, because the depths of his eyes, the beauty of his smile, and the strength and courage in his heart are the only oxygen the fires of my love need to keep burning long and strong no matter what._

_My love for is like a coal seam fire, and just like a coal seam fire changes the earth, my love has forever changed the bedrock of my life, and Clint Barton’s name will always be painted across my heart for everyone to see._

_Clint changed me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. This is different for me and I know for a lot of you, too!
> 
>  **Edit** : I never said but the title is from Pop Evil's "Torn To Pieces". That song totally inspired this fic. It has zero things to do with the song really but I was listening to it and it made me want to write something that would make people FEEL and the 'mood' of that song inspired this more than anything else, so I took the title from it.


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